The Jotun
by SAINTIXE56
Summary: Starting from where Avengers ended and finishing where Thor: The Dark World will end. The journey of a man who does not know who he is, yet knows who he is not. Where the God of Lies looks for the truth, his truth. Easier said than done. No OC but strict Marvel and Norse Myths canon. Reviews welcomed.
1. Chapter 1

It took him shorter to fall from grace than to be brought back into what he feels is a golden cage. He always has had an ease with words his elder not-brother ever had.

It took him more time, efforts and endeavours to become a warrior because this was not his home. He tried, he has tried, tried again and again to be the son, the man, the prince they wanted. He has tried so hard to fit him. But he would not, could not, and did not fit. Raised among swans when all he ever was, was a repugnant amphibian unfit to fly. But the worse is not his failure. The worse is the lies.

The lies he has been fed days after days. Lies of better happier tomorrows by the woman who let him believe he was a cherished son. Lies of victories, lies of being seen as worthy by a man who caused him to commit the crime nobody can ever mend. He would laugh almost.

Lies. He wanted to be accepted as equal. What a joke. He was treated as equal. Thor was lied to, just as much as him. That's equality for you. Two men told from infancy to look at each other as blood brothers. Who believed the lie and loved each other as brothers and friends should. To be severed from this bond at the ultimate second.

This was it. Lies.

The tesseract has brought them back. Directly into Odin's private chambers. Small wonder. Asgardians might look at askance to a king who let free rein to a monster in their mist. Who allowed said base creature to prowl free to taint the sacred sanctum. And more he thinks about it, more his rage builds up eats him, submerges him. Once he loved, he worshipped, he idolized. Once, he has an ideal. Now, all he owns is hate and this hate is an inferno ready to engulf what he called once Home.

There will be no witness. Save the oaf. How can Thor stay so calm? Ho! Golden son, you have been lied to! Denied of truth! How can you claim to be my brother if you do not stand by me when we have suffered a similar abuse?

A quick look around. His m… the Queen is not there. Probably too ashamed of him. A real mother would stand by him, would be at her side. Too weak, too cowardly. Too afraid. Hate devours more and more what sanity he has regained so cruelly through the Beast's sound thrashing.

Thor looks around just like him. More openly and seemingly surprised. Like he really was expecting to see Frigga (since this is the name he must use from now on. Not Mother. No more Mother). The Lady Frigga (Lady Frigga. Yes, it has a better ring. But Odin will be only AllFather. For Eternity. Only Laufey…). The Queen is not there.

'I am proud. Proud of you Thor. Your actions were noble and restrained as they should be'

His lone and cold (so cold) eye turns to the Fallen. The muzzled not-son. The monster that has been bound like monsters should be.

'We thought you dead. Heimdall scanned and scanned all the branches of Yggdrasil and could not find you. Where were you? We even built a funeral pyre. We mourned you. Your mother … you broke her heart… you broke her'

A muzzled man cannot answer back. But his eyes can. How dares he? How can he dare to tell him his m… the Queen mourned. If he could, he would reply. But he can't and simply allows his rage to answer back for him.

A sign of the hand from Odin and Thor frees his mouth. Finally. He moves his jaw, and remains silent.

'I have not informed your mother of your return. I will not! I will not, I cannot tell her the son she grieves for is a murderous lunatic who wrought Death on innocent people. Haven't I teach you not to vent your anger on innocents? Better she weeps for the lie of a dead son than what you have become'

A parricide. AllFather. I am fully aware of my crime'

This is too much for Thor. He cannot allow his brother's tongue to cause more damage to their father. Too much damage to Loki. Because he knows his sibling. He knows that Loki is fair and can trash himself with as much gusto as he can punish a fool.

'Stop it, Loki. Our father is just and he is our king. I have erred just like you and what happens today is the direct consequence of my own folly. If I had not decided to take you to Jotunheimr...'

'...I would have learnt the truth later. I would have learnt regardless and we would still be standing in this room.'

Odin sits on a small chair. Tired, exhausted. Thor is contrite; Loki would, should feel worried. If this man was his father, his true loving father. Which he is not. His real true Father is dead. Killed by his son's hand. Loki, son of Laufey. Loki begat by Laufey. Laufey killed by Loki. This blood will never come off his ledger. Not that he wants to swipe it. This blood is his badge of honour. The very proof of his innocence. Laufey killed by Loki who was taught Laufey was a monster, who was taught Odin was his father. Laufey wanted to kill Odin. Loki Odinsson killed Laufey. But all was a lie. Odin lied. Odin is the cause innocent Loki killed innocent Laufey. Laufey's blood is calling for revenge. Calling for Odin's blood. Loki was not able to save Laufey, slain by Odin's web of lies. Loki will avenge his father. All it takes is patience. If they are anything, Frost Giants are patient. Loki will wait. No more stupid tantrums. He will wait. Like a snake in the shadow. Like a wolf waiting for the right moment to strike and he will kill Odin.

'When Heimdall was finally at long last able to locate you, it was clear for anyone to see you were partially under the influence of Thanos.'

Thor opens wide eyes. (Oh, brother. When will you learn that only daggers kill? Words hurt. Just hurt and leave seeping wounds)

'How? … Loki… nobody has surv…'

'Thanos. He who courts Death. I do not know where he hides himself. I know you were acting under his influence and I am indebted to the Banner mortal for he has broken the fetters which were binding you captive of his enchantments. I cannot bring myself to conjure what sort of torments he broke on you to reduce an Odinsson in slavery'

Thor is torn. A part of him is appalled at the very notion of Loki falling into Thanos hands; another one is rejoicing. Loki's killing spree on Midgard has an explanation. An explanation which sort of absolves his young brother. He shoots a quick look at Loki and does not understand why his brother looks even more murderous.

'So this is your plan, AllFather. Lie to my face, lie to Midgard, and lie to Asgard. Lies on lies on lies. I allowed Thanos to impregnate my soul with his vileness. I allowed it, permitted it. I…'

'Every spell?'

He would that he could say yes. But he cannot. He can lie but not to himself. After the fall, after he had lost his mind during this fall into the void, spiralling into madness… when he fell on Thanos rock into Thanos claws into Thanos power… he was played with. It took a very long, very painful time to regain lucidity. By this time, the Titan had realized that the Asgardian youth was Odin's youngest. Instead of mindless torture, he has been offered an army, a realm. Everything at one condition: to allow himself to be exposed, to allow his soul, his very core, to allow Loki to be exposed to the greatness of … no, not Death. Death is for Thanos, reserved for Thanos exclusively. To be exposed to the reality of Infinity. It would have been laughable if his body was not so damnably sore of the tortures invented by the Other for his sole benefits. (The Other. He will pay. One day, Loki swears. He will kill him too as just as slowly and The Other will also beg for something as simple as pain).

'Brother. Father speakth to you'

'Be done with me. Odin Borson. I have better things to do that listen to the man whose lies cause me to kill my own father'

Thor gasps. Predictable Thor.

'I have sent the Queen on an errand. Loki will be judged for the deaths of the guards in the Vault Room when he allowed the Jotuns to try to steal the Casket of Winters. The havoc he caused in Asgard and on Midgard where he sent the Destroyer. And his attempt at destroying Jotunheimr. I, Odin, have spoken.'

And it sets it. The rage is now a mile–high burning flame.

And I, Loki Laufeyson will take your life for my father's life. You hear me, AllFather, I shall avenge my father, Laufey'

'Loki, you let your anger which may be partially justified take control of you. I cannot, I will not allow it. You are a danger to yourself as much as others. As you are, you are not fit to be a man, much less to be a king. Children are not allowed to play with weapons. I shall take your magic away from you till you get back a semblance of sanity'

'Then I have no choice but to mourn my father in the most respectful way'

Thor's blue eyes are totally astonished. Because he is now witnessing something he has never seen and hopefully will never see again. Hammer in hand, the Thunderer is ready to use Mjolnir against Loki if needs be but Loki's magical reply to the magical lightening issued from Gungnir is not what he expected. The golden flame has surrounded his brother's form. Yet Loki's reply seems weak. He is not fighting against his, no –their, yes their father. Rather, the very green magic light is surrounding his brother's body like a shell, a cover… glamour. And it is over; the golden flame has won as it was to be. Loki's magic is gone. Dissolved by Odin's. Isn't it?

Loki is now kneeling, like gasping for air. But he smiles. He has won; he has not given in. Just like he resisted to Thanos.

And Odin and Thor retreat. Because Loki is now standing up. And Odin and Thor realize the last word, the last and final moment is Loki's. A very blue, very Jotun Loki who is looking at them through Laufey's red eyes.

'If I cannot avenge my father, the least I can do is to die like him. To die a Jotun. Loki spilled Laufey's blood. His blood will be my coat. His blood runs through my veins. The veins of Loki Laufeyson, AllFather. I am free from your lies'

'Take him away, Thor. I must inform your mother of what has happened. All what has happened. Take him to the dungeon. Let's hope some solitude will bring him back to some sense.'

He does not bother to answer. He will not answer though he will physically sick to wear this Jotun skin. Jotun he looks and the eyes of the Asgardian guards tell everything he wants to know. Fear and repulsion. The daily staples of a monster. Thor locks the muzzle he has never let fall off.

'This Jotun must be treated like a prince. He is … precious to the AllFather…, precious to my parents and myself. If any harm befalls him, I will bring myself Ragnarok over your head… and your families. He will not speak and you will not hear what he says. The king will call him back soon'

The two brothers who are not brothers, who are brothers because they are brothers, because one cannot deny the past share a last look over each other and break the bond.

Thor leaves, closes the door and the dark invades the cell. All he hears is that there is a banquet tonight in to honour the return of the first son over some insignificant typical Midgardian misadventure.

Darkness. Darker than Jotunheimr constant night. It is Asgard yet Jotunheimr felt warmer. Darkness. He walks to the wall the further away from the cell door and allows his very tired back to ease itself against the icy stonewall. Allows his legs to finally bend until his buttocks reach the stone floor. Allows his eyes to close.

He cannot speak but if he could, he would say:

'Never, never again will I be lied to. Never. All liars, all of them'

He swears that not he will never ever believe anybody again but his last tear fell in Midgard, Pitiful Earth who should cherish this divine tear because never will it fall again. Because next time, it will be somebody else who will cry…


	2. Chapter 2

-_ 'How is His Highness doing?_

_- 'As usual. Immovable. Does not speak, not that he can. Does not move. Does not drink. Refuses food. He could eat and drink with a straw with his muzzle. But, no. His Majesty refuses Asgard's best'_

_- 'He. He is a Jotun, Stands to reason. He must feed on ice and drink snow.'_

_- 'Well, such fare does not feed its man. Or its Jotun. This is a midget Giant. A dwarf giant'_

_- 'Ha-ha-ha! Gunnar, your wit is killing me. You're on par with Silver-Tongue'_

_- 'Except I am alive, me'_

The two guards sobered up at the thought. Since the death of the young prince, gloom had invaded the Realm Eternal. Not that the black-haired prince was loved, but his brother was loved. His parents were feared and revered. Odin for all his immortality had aged all of a sudden. Too often, the Queen would speak to stop suddenly in the middle of a word like listening to a voice nobody was hearing. There was nobody to play tricks. Thor was carrying on his royal duties yet the first-born son would also turn around like expecting somebody who would be forever missing. Asgard went into mourning. They mourned the Trickster who made them laugh just as much as he brought disquiet to their regulated lives. They mourned because the Royal Family was in mourning.

To add insult to injury, the Bifrost was broken. Something had happened. Sif and the Warriors Three kept something secret. Something to do with the young King. After Thor's banishment, when the AllFather had fallen into Odin's sleep. The duties of ruler-ship had fallen on the slim shoulders of his young son. At the beginning, all went fine. Then Accursed Laufey had dared attacking Odin in his comatose state to be slain by Silver-Tongue himself before the Frost Giant had had time to strike the fatal blow…

Then the story got confusing. The warriors 3 and Lady Sif had brought back Thor to help his brother or to fight his brother. Heimdall had fought an invasion of more Frost Giants or prevented their destruction. Thor and Loki had fought together the invaders or fought against each other. Whatever happened in between, what everybody knew by heart was the end.

Thor had had no choice but destroy the Rainbow Bridge but it had been too late. Odin who had awakened had joined his sons in the battle but this also had been too late. The young prince had been slain mortally and let go of life. Loki Silver-Tongue, Loki the Trickster had died a warrior's death. When her husband and her eldest son had returned to the Palace, carrying Loki's helmet, they had been met by the Queen who was running down the steps. No word was exchanged. The Queen said nothing. Just started climbing back the very steps she had come down, her shoulders shaking to fall in silence like a flower cut by a scythe. And that was it.

Since… there had been the burial, the pyre on top of the grave. And now there were rumours of war. The Dark Elves were apparently decided to try their hands at fighting the just rulings of the Asgardian Realm. If Silver-Tongue had been there, he would have shown them the folly to follow the advice of Malekith the Accursed. Silver-Tongue would have, would no more. He was not loved, aye, but he was missed.

Asgard had sighed of relief when some vague trouble happened on Midgard. Thor's gloom and doom was getting on everybody's nerves. His brother was dead, the Bifrost destroyed and he could not be with his mortal girl-friend to be given solace from his bereavement. Midgard action would do him good. And it did. In a way.

He had returned with this ridiculously small Jotun. Muzzled and now unbound. A mysterious prisoner in rags, unkempt, filthy. Who sat on the floor of a darkened cell. Odin's magic was around the cell walls to make sure the prisoner could not escape. Though at the rate things were going, the small Jotun's hunger strike would ensure he would escape to enter Hela's realm. Thor was visiting him regularly. What was exchanged between Asgard's finest and noblest son and the prisoner was a mystery. What was no mystery was the trashing a guard got after he was found out to have beaten up the prisoner. No sound had been heard yet instants after the door had closed behind the molester, Thor had burst in the prison and taught the villain that Odin's rule applied to everybody: prison wardens included. The gaolers hated the Jotun. Because he was Jotun, because of his silence, because his unaccounted for hold over Thor… and the Queen had not yet returned from whatever she had gone to.

_- 'Hu- he-hee! Hee-hee! So these are Odin's private chambers?'_

_- 'Shut up, you Vanir scum!'_

The two guards raised their heads from the soup bowls of their evening meal. A burly Einherjar was pushing in front on him down the steps which were leading to the guards a lithe Vanir youth.

_- 'What are you bringing us?'_

_- 'This drunken fool. Not only the child has barely enough stubble to qualify as a man but he must engage in a brawl as being able to ride Sleipnir, our King's stead. And engage in a bet with Lord Fandral'_

_- 'What has it to do with us? We are the Jotun's minions at his beck and call'_

_- 'We all know the blue dwarf does not tire you. Make sure the Vanir stays sober, does not break his neck and allow Fandral to collect a few gold ducats tomorrow morning'_

While the royal guard and the lowly prison wardens were discussing, the Vanir was looking around seemingly interested by all he saw. Exclaiming wonders and puzzlement at what he saw.

- _'A bowl, two bowls, a soup pan. Mead, let me sniff… baaaaah. Not proper mead. Our mead is better'_

The Einherjar left in a hurry. Having deposited his charge in safe hands, he was free to return to the inn and play dice with his friends. Fandral was sure to win. True, the eight-legged horse was from Vanaheimr originally. Yet, aside his eight legs, there was nothing magical about it. Mutterings about Spider-Horses and pigs being fed by pearls had escaped the intoxicated youth's lips making even less sense to his drabbles.

_- 'What are we going to do with you?'_

_- 'Why don't you try to sleep it off, lad'_

_- 'I am not your lad. And I am thirsty!'_

The guards exchanged a common sigh. The night was going to be long. Though when it came to thirst… The Vanir, uninterested, was continuing his exploration.

_- 'Oh! A key. Nice key. In Vanaheimr, we do not need keys. Only friends lift the curtain door of your tent'_

The guards were getting exasperated. Vanaheimr and Vanir customs there. All way better, smarter, wiser, and prettier than anything Asgard could concoct. Since the wedding of Odin, peace reigned between the two realms. Odin had married Frigga, a distant cousin from Lord Njord, Vanaheimr Great Khan. Not anymore Khan. Since he has more or less lost the war and been obliged to agree on Frigga's husband, Njord has taken a pet. Vanirs were no more Gods. They were men. Free Men. And Njord's free son, Freyr would succeed him… except he did not. The happy-go-lucky Freyr had died killed by Laufey and his widow had soon followed him. Leaving the old king with a new-born infant as his heir. Vanaheimr Heir was a cypher. Nobody has seen him or her for a long time. Such a long time that it had been whispered that the heir was an heiress. Not that it made a difference for Vanaheimr. A woman could lord over the Vanirs without having her authority discussed. Vanaheimr prided itself on its equalitarian views unlike Jotunheimr and Asgard.

If Laufey had thought Freyr's murder would destabilize the old realm, he was wrong. Njord made sure his grandson was safe and could grow to manhood in safe and sound. The horse loving Vanirs carried on their lives constantly on the move for new pastures, new fields to plough and more importantly new ways to travel through the Universe.

If Jotunheimr and Asgard valued war and honour above all, Vanaheimr did not disdain honour (their byword was "a Vanir never lies" translated "as truthful as a Vanir" behind their back. Truth did not imply the use of prevarication if need be), Vanirs certainly knew how to fight and their cavalry was rightly renowned and feared. Njord's alliance was sought and denied. Again and again. Vanirs were warriors, could be warriors but preferred peace. And were… heretics.

They did not deny the AllFather. They worshipped the AllMother as his equal. Worse as his superior and worse was to be secretly whispered. They pretended that Yggdrasil was but a tree. Yes, a tree among a forest of other trees which branches allowed one to travel from worlds to worlds. Finally, the last straw of indecency was that their realm was rich in veins of dark energy. But they would not share. The veins were their AllMother blood and as such to remain unspoiled. Only exceptional circumstances would allow some sampling of the pulsating energy. Recently again, Odin had requested from Njord some energy to allow Thor's visit to Midgard. Njord had relinquished some of the precious liquid with much difficulty. That had been the time when Vanaheimr heir had ridden for the first time behind his grand-father. A youth sporting Vanaheimr Eagle feathers, the lower part of his face showing manly stubble and wearing around his neck the green and gold colours of his grandfather. Green as Mother Earth and Gold as Father Sun.

If the Dark Elves were worrying, the Vanirs were a nuisance. Njord's grand son had started what was looking to be a spreading rebellion. Against his grand sire for supposed inertia about Asgard's unjustified demands. On the plus side, a young audacious prince boded renewal for Vanaheimr; the downside being Jotunheimr or Svartalfaheimr keen to ally themselves with the young fool.

And now, they had a young fool to keep safe from him.

_- 'A key. Our towers of Fire have keys to protect AllMother's precious blood to be lost… oh a door and a keyhole. I wonder…'_

_- 'Stop, you fool. There's a Jotun inside. He is a runt; still a Jotun he is. And dangerous. Leave this key by his door'_

_- 'May I see him? I have never seen a Jotun runt.'_

_- 'No. Why don't you try to sober up and drink water'_

Water was not lacking. Inside the room a constant water spring could refresh the prisoners without having the guards to walk up and down countless steps with a pail brim-full of water. The spring was connected with the palace's water system. Odin was drinking the very same water served to his miscreant subjects. Asgard prided itself on this equalitarian justice. Asgard was not a hypocrite like Vanaheimr calling everybody equal but considering Midgard's mortals as apes. Brilliant apes, but not as a sentient specie. Vanaheimr was looking for equals. Real equal-equals.

Inside the cell, he can hear the brouhaha of the unexpected and unwelcomed visitor. And he knows something is wrong, counterfeited. The Vanir looks too drunk, taking too many notes of too apparently mundane objects. He stands up and walks silently to the door of his cell.

_- 'Water, I want Water… and Water I will have.'_

_- 'This water is not for you. It is for the prisoner.'_

_- 'I doubt any prisoner can drink so much water from that spring. My, he would need the appetite of Old Utgard-Loki's buffoon'_

_- 'This water is for everybody in the palace. It runs everywhere. Including in the AllFather apartments.'_

_- 'Excellent, I will drink some of it'_

The Vanir seizes a soup bowl, empties its contents on the floor in front of the outraged guards and runs to the spring turning his back to them. Impervious to them and to the Jotun prisoner.

The man in the cell is watching. He knows the climax is coming. The scene is set and Surtur is about to devour his prey. The guards see nothing; or rather they imagine they see the Vanir putting his bowl in the pool to drink water. With his left hand. What they do not see or even imagine is that the Vanir is pouring something from a thin vial inside the water pool and that is it.

The youth turns around, shows the bowl full of water and smiles. A big wide grin. It puts the bowl back on the table and … and his right hand now holds something like a mask which is now sitting on his face. The guards look at the mask, taken aback. What is this trick?

The trick is simple and requires no magic. Though there is some magic here. Suddenly the spring starts to bubble and a strange green mist rises from the pool. The guards want to get hold of the traitorous Vanir but it is too late. They have already fainted. Just like about all the inhabitants of the palace.

_- 'Even if Heimdall sees me, it will take time before he can raise the alarm. Nightie night, my friends'_

The Vanir is going to leave when he hears a noise. A rattle from the cell where the Jotun is held.

_- 'Ah the Jotun. Naturally, your lungs would be immune to the sleeping mist. Hahhh, nobody deserves to be stuck inside One-Eyed Grey Beard's dungeon'_

Slender fingers unhook the key and throw it through the small aperture through which the guards can survey their prisoner. A good deed never goes unpunished, they say. The Vanir rushes two steps at a time the stairs taking him outside the prison. The Vanir has a mission to accomplish and could not care less for the prisoner of the dark cell.

When the Vanir reaches the entrance of Odin's vault, there is nobody to stop him.

Some floors below, a man is finally free. Free from his cell. But not from his muzzle. He does not care. He is running to his Fat… to Odin's vault. The muzzle key must be stored there when Thor is not visiting him. Once his tongue free, though depleted of magic, Loki has some mischief to inflict on…


	3. Chapter 3

Earlier…

- _No! … No, no and no! This cannot be; there must be a way out._

_- There is no loophole, my dear._

_- Why? Surely you… you may have agreed to but it was a long time ago and … and it was not about me._

_- It may be so; it is indeed so. None the less, the agreement is quite clear and written in such way that it can be applied for anybody fitting the description._

_- So I am condemned. It bears no…By the AllMother; please tell me there is an exit to this nightmare._

_- The bones do not lie._

_- Yes, naturally. How churlish of me. You would have request a reading from the Runes. Yet … I cannot believe it._

_- The Runes do not lie, dear._

_- … but… but it will be the end of me. I am doomed, our world is doomed. Odin wins…I cannot accept it. How could the Gentle AllMother allow such monstrosity...? Unless…Unless she gives… Blood for Blood, Time through Screen, Secrets no more, Future be seen._

_- I do not allow it. The Goddess's blood is sacred, not to be misused._

_- I accept your ruling though it grieves me wondrously. There must be a way out._

Later

A shadow in the night. A sprinkling of magic. One day, a price too dear will be paid. Today, some things have to be done.

….

_- Brother, doth speak. Your refusal to take any sustenance is madness. I cannot stay long for fear your identity be known. Please do partake of some food._

_- …_

_- Brother, please._

_- …_

_- I have no choice but let your hands be shackled. Father has… If you change your mind, call the guards. There is a hatch in the door. Your gaolers will give you water and food._

_- …_

_- As you wish._

_…_

_- I have removed the muzzle. If the prisoner requests food and water, he will have it and as much as it pleases him. But nobody is allowed to enter the cell. My father will make sure you will forever regret disobeying._

(Finally, I am finally alone. Ah. Alone. Alone with my thoughts and my memory. Trying to make sense of what I am. Fool, you think you brought me home. This is not my home. My home is where Father lives. Lived. Home. How can I return home, call home a realm when I have slain his rightful king? Oh, Thor. I have slain my father.

I am doomed. I am cursed. I have lost my own father. I have killed my father. My own father. I have no home and I am disallowed to grieve. Odin, why did you have to feel mercy on the infant I was? I do not blame Laufey to have wished for, to have ordained my death. I deserved to die before my soul was forever soiled by the stain of parricide. Now, it is too late. Death, Hela please welcome this wretched fool. Loki, you dared to want to be king. You are unfit as a son, much less as prince.

Prince Loki of Jotunheimr. Jotun. I'll mourn for you Father, I never loved. Father, I despised. Father, I betrayed. Odin wins. Odin always wins. But, he will not win this time. Born a Jotun, I die a Jotun. I mourn my Father Laufey. Just like my people, I grieve my king. As a Jotun.

And I do not care if my armour cannot bear the contact for long with this icy skin. I do not care for my clothes torn into rags. I don't care if my Aesir chin is covered by beard. I am Jotun. And Jotun, I shall be.)

Now

The light Vanir runs in corridors still heavy with the mystical fumes which rise from the many springs, fountains and wells. Contamination. A most simple magic. If it can be called magic. The guards are asleep. Most probably the banquet Thor unless it was Odin was hosting, is silent. Like the Midgardian tale: Sleeping beautifully. Sound asleep. Asleep long enough to reach his goal and perform real magic.

As he runs in the hallways, he stops and looks at his reflection in a mirror. Vanir. Yes, Vanir. No lie here. A small Vanir by all standard. Fiery curls. The typical ear-bangles worn by males and females alike. The shadow of a moustache and enough stubble to qualify for a man and not a teen. Until one notices the freckles and realizes the Vanir is younger than his looks betray. Yet looks and courage are not alike. It takes boldness to attack all alone Odin in his palace. A price will be wrought.

Finally, he reaches the door. A guard, an Einherjar fallen, asleep on his side. A green light rises from the Vanir raised hand and the door opens. Nobody but the King, his family and his royal guards can set foot it. Tonight is a first. Tonight a Vanir saunters into it and walks toward its treasure: the Casket of Winters. Hurrying, the young man pours some more liquid from the very same vial into it. And… and a mist rises like the enchanted mist which rose and put all Asgard under its spell.

But it is a different mist. It rises and starts showing terrifying deeds.

Blood for Blood, Time for Screen… It is a mirror and it reads …

After the Vanir left the dungeon, Loki has knelt and grabbed in a dash the keys thrown carelessly for a fellow sufferer. He will not get another chance to escape. Maybe this is destiny. His glorious purpose is to avenge Laufey. He must get to the Vault, get his hands back on the Casket to, for once and for all solve the conundrum which is the race between Jotuns and Aesirs as who should lead the Nine Realms. The new Jotun King will avenge Jotunheimr indignities. He runs in the silent corridors but he knows where his running steps lead. The guards are still asleep. The door is half open.

Ahead of him, his back turned, the Vanir is performing a spell of catoptromancy using the Casket of Winters as a medium. Some arcane hydromancy. The Vanir is a wizard. A powerful one. A wizard who is shrieking.

_- 'Jotun'_

As he turns to face the man who has just appeared on the surface of the mystical mirror.

- _'Oh… It is you. What are you doing here? Asgard … I was not aware your likes were allowed here. I warn you'_

Loki has closed the few steps which were keeping apart from the Vanir wizard.

- _ 'What are you doing?'_

_- 'None of your business. I must repeat the spell now! Oh, we shall never get enough time'_

As if waiting to be woken up, the guards are starting to move and groan.

- _ 'They are going to be awake soon. We are too late. But not late enough to be captured!'_

The Vanir put some pressure on the marble tiles in a certain sequence and a door slides. By the Norns, even his Fa… even the AllFather is not aware of this secret passageway. Asgard could be attacked without warning. He would raise an alert except he would not. This is not his home and what may happen to Asgard is not his duty to prevent. The Vanir has already disappeared, swallowed by the dark opening and the door is going to close. But not closed enough to prevent the lean prince to slide between its closing gap.

Ahead of him, he hears more than he sees the young Vanir man running down uneven steps. Time is of the essence. Asgard is waking up; outraged at the insufferable humiliation he has borne from a youth, from a youth whose Realm is not Asgard but Vanaheimr. True the two realms are at peace. A vigilant peace where Asgard rules and Vanaheimr tolerates. For how long?

Even here, through the thick stones cut inside the rock, he can hear the horns calling for revenge against the assault Asgard has suffered. The steps finally come to an end and he stumbles. Days of prolonged inactivity are asking their toll. Unlike Thor, he prefers books to the training grounds. None the less, he trains. Used to train. Between the fall and the beating he has gone through thanks be to the Green Beast, he is not so much fit nowadays. Still, he recovers from his stagger and follows the faint footfall ahead of him. Where are they?

Still in the Palace? Or rather in the Palace stables. Everybody is rushing inside the Golden Hall. Missing the two shadows who are outside. The Vanir stops in front of a loose-box. Opens its door and leads out Odin's very own stead.

- _'Poor friend. Look at you. We are going home. At least, I will not have failed you'_

The huge white stallion follows the lead without as much as a neigh. Sleipnir, the eight-legged stallion towers above the small man yet obeys him like a child obeys his mother.

- _'Where do you think you are going?'_

_- 'Far from Asgard. You, imbecile'_

Loki hesitates between admiration and pity. Though certainly the Vanir would be offended to be pitied. The small man is now getting on the horse and Sleipnir does not balk, does not try to get rid on his cavalier. Now they are in the open. Asgard Royal Stables are big, and its courtyards are bigge-r

- _'You should get yourself a horse'_

_- 'And be found, thanks to Heimdall. I think not. But arresting you might do the tr…'_

Sleipnir has started to trot and Loki knows it soon will break into a canter. It makes no sense and that is why it is so wrong yet so exciting. Something unexpected is going to happen and Loki wants to be part of it.

- _ 'I think not. My spider horse will soon be free'_

How can it be free? In the night, voices are heard and Thor voice is unmistakable. This is Thor and his run for freedom is going to end along the side of a Vanir fool-cum-wizard. A fool who mutters about spider-horses when it all comes clear and he runs like he has never run to jump and ride pillion behind the smaller man.

Thor is almost here, almost reaching the vast expense of the closed courtyard. Brother, once again you are doomed for disappointment.

- _'Loki… No!'_

The eight-legged horse is galloping at full speed and will crash into the wall in a few seconds except the Vanir has started to whistle and the horse all of a sudden has started to take an unforeseen angle. An impossible angle upward toward the stars. An angle aiming at a flashing pulsating horizon among the stellar night. A light as brilliant as the Bifrost. But Loki does not care where the Spider Horse is going. He tries to hold the reins and lead the horse toward… anywhere but Asgard. Maybe Midgard because he has accounts to settle on this miserable realm. Except the Vanir fights back and Sleipnir hesitates though it jumps flawlessly over a rain of rainbow stars.

Thor only sees the horse and its two cavaliers disappear in the galaxies night. Nowhere to be seen. Loki is free. The Realm Eternal is in danger from now on. Loki has found a way to travel between the Realms with an unheard yet powerful magic. Thor may be an oaf but even he understands a war has begun.


	4. Chapter 4

Thor only sees an explosion of colours then nothing but the empty night. Heimdall sees the same and knows there is Vanir magic at foot. Where are the two horsemen galloping to is to remain a mystery, even to him and this bodes danger. Yet… what happened in the vault room is unexplainable? This entire affront to Asgard for this feeble attempt to read the Future. Surely there is something else… Something else is appearing to him and he leaves the wandering of a renegade prince and its wayward saviour. Odin and Thor must be informed as soon as possible of a bigger mischief.

If Asgard is ready to let him go, Loki is not ready to let his destiny be reined in by a not-drunk Vanir wizard. Both men struggle as who is leading the flight of the spider horse. The wondrous spider horse. All that time wasted to try repairing the Bifrost while a quicker more elegant answer was grazing just under Odin's nose.

Sleipnir has been part of Vanaheimr homage to the AllFather. A stallion from the famed eight-legged Vanir cavalry. Indeed magical steeds. Horses who like arachnids weave links between universes, build a web of connections between realms. If he ever…when he will return, he will ride this horse or another similar magical stallion. When he travels on Yggdrasil secret branches far from Heimdall's sight, he can only carry what he has on his back; he smiles at the idea of all he could take with him when this horse is his.

This horse has completed this web and they landed or rather jump inside a meadow. A small meadow closed by tall dark trees. And the horse gives his answer to Loki. Thou are not my master. A swift kick and Loki would fall ungracefully from its back except he is Loki and all he does has elegance even when he backstabs his brother.

Sleipnir slows its pace to bend his head and start munching on fresh grass. If the horse is unmindful of its surroundings, this is not the case for its riders.

_- 'I am cursed. I am cursed!'_

_- 'Where did you wish to land on?'_

_- 'Vanaheimr, naturally. Why, by Nighoggr would I wish to walk on Malekith territory?'_

Svartalfheimr is ralm covered by thick dense dark forests. Fitting dwelling for the broody sinister dark elves. So unlike Vanaheimr.

Vanaheimr is almost as large as the Realm Eternal. There stops the resemblance. Asgard looks, Asgard is civilized. Cities and buildings. True there are mountains and forests deep. Yet, it looks clearly as a realm upon which the will of his ruler is absolute down to the landscape.

The Vanirs prefer tents and temporary settlements. They like to move about. True they have farmers but there again; said farms follow a rotation of camps. They only build towers above some certain sacred parts of their realm. To protect some mines, some shafts from greedy hands.

Asgard would like access to the mines. Vanaheimr replies by grudging offerings of caskets of precious dark energy. Precious Blood from the AllMother, they reply. Odin's only eye would but cannot oblige them to worship him. The Vanirs have about lost the Great War against Asgard. They have signed a treaty they cannot – mercifully for them – fulfil and Odin cannot oblige them. They pay tribute; they pay lip-service to his Might. They remain what they are. Heretics.

They lost a war and refuse to be called Gods. Though Gods they are and powerful. Until Asgard who is all about War and Power, they are about Fertility and Peace. This does not imply they are not mean fighters. They defend more than they attack. And they protect well as Odin and his kin have discovered.

Laufey wanted also access to the mines and like Old One Eye was denied. Njord's son paid with his life Laufey's wrath. But a new bud had started unbeknownst to his father. Njord, bereaved father, broken grand-father has become father and mother to his heir. And has discovered like Odin that his grandchild has a mind of his own. Asgardians are way-led in the vast steppes of Vanaheimr. Nothing serious; just some innocent mischief. Yet. Because he is a rebel at heart and youth thrives on rebellion, he is attacking likewise minded youths who like him believe their parents and grand-parents have given in too soon to Asgard. It is not war. Yet. Yet, if nothing is done to stem this flow of rebellious children, war will start again. Dark elves have been observed by Heimdall, meeting with the young prince. Odin says nothing will come of it but what the Norns have willed.

Malekith has even presumed of offering an alliance. Odin was right as always. A Dark elf offering an alliance? Like an equal? Vanirs are Gods who pretend to be men. And there are not many men living on Yggdrasil branches. Vanirs, Asgardians. Giants? Under Laufey, men they are not. Though a long time ago, they could be honoured of this name.

Midgardians? Now, that is a joke. Midgard's sentient specie is still very far from the name of man. Sentient beasts, rather. Men, never. Ants build kingdoms. Ants they remain.

_- 'By the AllMother. We are cursed. We need a longer, wider meadow to allow Sleipnir the right gallop to weave to Vanaheimr….'_

_- 'The Dark Elves are a broody bunch. We shall avoid them. As soon as I find my way in this forest, we shall fly… Sorry, I shall weave to Midgard'_

_- 'Somebody is entertaining delusions'_

If Loki had his daggers, they would fly. But he is dressed in tattered armour and disarmed. The aristocratic features are now sporting Jotun skin ridges. He looks a vagrant but just like on Manhattan he was a prince even after the Hulk through his painful ministrations had freed him from his bondage to Thanos, he is still a prince. He is still Loki of Asg… He is Loki of Jotunheimr. Laufeyson. He is Laufeyson. And he has no home but Earth who is under Thor's protection. Earth who will suffer his rage because this is what Laufey wanted when Odin has stolen the Casket of Winters. His purpose is to avenge his father and this magical stallion will take him back to Midgard and its mewling protectors.

_- 'I should have said glorious delusions. Do not look at me like that. You, what's your name?'_

The Vanir is gently rubbing the heaving flanks of the horse. Say what you may, the Vanir when he is not concocting some mischief seems quite a good lad. A nice wizard who only wanted to conjure some tricks on the back of Asgard and wants to go home to rest.

_- 'Are you deaf? What's your name?'_

_- '… Jotun. Jotun…'_

_- 'That's a weird name. Weird and false. But who am I to judge? Mine is … Vanir. This way, we are equals. Us, Vanirs believe in equality!'_

_- 'We, Vanirs could, should, will tell us why this circus act!'_

_- 'We, Vanirs do not lie. Hence, I will not tell you'_

After some struggle as where to take their steps and Strength, physical strength has ruled and overcome the protestations of a younger, smaller, weaker man, Loki takes the horse leads and both enter the dark woods.

_- 'It's not fair'_

_- 'Nothing is fair'_

_- 'Unless you are...'_

_- 'And I'm definitively not. Fair'_

Silence, blessed silence should ensue and allow the fallen prince, the murderous prince to find his wits. He finds he cannot. He feels his mental prowess is sluggish under a Jotun skin. How can he think when every other instant, the Vanir starts talking!

_- 'I know. It is not fair. Most people are unfair to your people'_

_- 'Jotuns do not care about fairness'_

_- 'Jot?... Somebody has delusions. Jotun? What next? Asgardian, Vanir? Though, yes Vanir. Probably a Vanir grandmother. Ah bah, we are all half breed…'_

_- 'I am Jotun.'_

No, he is not. Not that the youth puts the blame on him. Nobody is responsible for one's parents frolicking. As for him, he knows for a fact, he has a Midgardian great-great-gr … unless it is a grandmother? He is not sure. Who cares? And look at his hair. Pure Muspellsheimr. Tells you. Grandf…Grandfather says it shows because he is a rebel. It burns in him to see Vanaheimr squirming under Asgard foot. But he will not blame an Asgardian from being born Asgardian. He will blame the man from behaving like a tyrant.

_- 'I am Jotun'_

_- 'No you are not. Well, you are. Probably half Jotun. Or a heavy sprinkling of Jotun. But mostly Vanir or Asgardian… let me see…'_

This angers him greatly. He has accepted that he is not an Odinsson. Because his true parentage lies in the icy glaciers of Jotunheimr. He is not ready to accept and be told: Wait a minute. This is not true. You are not Laufey's son. None the less, he leads Sleipnir and the little Vanir trots along following his long strides.

_- 'I am Jotun!'_

If the Vanir was wise, he would shut up for once and for all. If. As it is, the Vanir is not wise or is suicidal because he persists.

_'Black Vanir hair, blue skin. I grant you that. But no horn. No, no, no!. And Frost Giants are Giants. You are taller than me. True. The perfect height for an Asgardian. And lanky as an Elf. And…'_

_- 'Shut up'_

A cold hand has flown over the Vanir mouth while red eyes dare him to continue. He would kill the youth if he could. Killing the messenger. Never. Does change an iota of the message. All this drabble. All these details. Important details. He has been wondering about them. Thanos has shown him how he looks. And a Jotun he looks. True.

And truly, this Jotun looks different. Jotuns have horns, no hair. Jotuns are way taller. A runt. That was Odin's explanation. Laufey, afraid or ashamed of his new-born son had exposed him to die. What if he was not a runt but a healthy baby? Born to normal sized parents. What if…

_- 'It is not your fault. Our parents' hanky-panky is theirs. We make do with what destiny grants us. I was raised by my grandfather. I will never remember my parents. What counts is that I make them proud! Be proud of them.'_

_- 'I…'_

What can he say…? If indeed as he has suspected all along, compartmentalizing his concerns, he is possibly Laufey's son. Possibly. Not. Then what? Who is his father? Part-Jotun… And this word suggests something he has carefully not tread upon. If Laufey is his father… or not… who is his mother? Are his parents alive? Or are they dead? Why did they expose him to die in this lonely temple where Odin found him? If he is not a runt… And he knows the answers in his heart. What woman, what mother would expose her flesh and bones, her own new-born child to Jotunheimr ice and frost.

He is a half-breed, has always been a half-breed. Hence his feelings of inadequacy in Asgard. Part Jotun, true. Yet in Jotunheimr when he met Laufey, he has known deep inside this was not his home.

Where is his home? A half-breed. No surprise here. Jotuns are not Vanirs who welcome children, regardless of their parentage. Not Asgardians who, as long as the child looks essentially Aesir welcome him. Like Hogun whose Vanir blood has never been held against him.

Why did Odin alter his skin? To save him from Asgardian spite? Vanir, Jotun and Elf. What will next spring from the pot into which he was melt?

_- 'Whoever are your parents, know they loved you. Or they would have cut your thread before your birth'_

_- 'I…'_

The Vanir looks at him. The half breed must have suffered a lot. Not everybody can manage a ride on a spider horse without consequence.

_- 'Night is coming. I suggest we stop here. There is a small creek nearby, we can hear it flows. Sleipnir needs a rest. Like us'_

Loki nods. Silver-tongue would be the target of Asgard jokes. If Asgard knew. Did Thanos know? What does Odin know? Did Laufey know? All these questions. All these answers given spontaneously by this imp. This curly wizardly rebellious imp. A youth who tells him finally the truth and helps him getting to the bottom of his WHY.

_- 'Must have been tough growing up in Asgard. I mean with a blue skin. I had only heard of one mixed-breed looking like you. But not in Asgard. So they lock you up. What an upbringing!_

_- 'I grew up … free… I…'_

It is a flood. Running over a broken dam. So many words let free to roam. The God of Lies. The man who was force-fed lies all his life. The man who has become the God of Lies because his expertise in being lied to is so exquisite, so vast he cannot but be the Gods of Lies. The man who has been conned into believing tricks, who has suffered such grievous mischief … this man has his own story to tell, his own truth to be heard. And this Vanir, born to a people known as the Gods who never lie will listen to him. Willing or not.

_- 'Tell me. Or do not. Do what you want. We, Vanirs pride ourselves on always been truthful, blessed be the ever bountiful AllMother. Why should we lie when we are blessed with such a generous parent?_

_- 'You do not lie. You prevaricate'_

_- 'Tis no lying. Tis omitting unpleasant facts and still we do not lie'_

_- 'Are you going to listen to me?'_

And it starts, unravelling the brilliant woven lie of his life. Brought back to Asgard by a stupid man, he has been raised along his son. His real son, believing him to be his younger brother. Somehow, Odin for reason unknown has willed his skin to look as fair as an Aesir one.

_- 'What? Old Odin knew? What hold must your father have over Odin to obtain such magic? Odin knew… Fair enough. Sorry, I cut you'_

_- 'As I was saying Odin knew. But I did not, my brother did not. The Q... our mo…my foster mother knew. Naturally. I was given false hopes, lies, and bitter promises. Until I learnt the truth. And … it was like Ragnarok.'_

For a long time, he has felt something was wrong and one day for some mundane reasons unworthy of being remembered (a failed coronation, some junketing in Jotunheimr) he learnt accidentally the truth. But his father … his stepfather went into a bad spell of ill-health at the very same time for his father… his foster father (I do not even know how to call him) had fallen out with his sibling. His foster-sibling. Then, he … let drop of them, fell into a bad crowd… He hesitates. Killing so many Midgardians will take some artistic license. The art of prevaricating is not unknown to him, though this time; he does not want to weave lies within his tale. Maybe not tell the whole unvarnished truth; but let only truth come to his lips.

_- 'Let say I was a fool. I took a wrong turn, took wrong decisions, and made bad choices. Write me as evil as you can for I deserve the calling. I ended up in that cell because I deserved it. I have killed; tried to kill my own brother. Who's a fool! Who still loves me! Despite knowing who I am! What a monster I am…'_

Loki Laufeyson. Not so sure of being Laufeyson. Loki not of Asgard. Loki, the half-breed. Loki the monster. Who killed Laufey. Who may have killed his own father. Loki the accursed. Loki, damned from the very beginning. As he should be because he has committed a parricide.

_- 'Thank you. Do not look surprised. Some days, I feel sorry for myself. You know: not knowing my parents. Listening to you, I realize how incredibly lucky I am. I know my parentage; I have a loving grand-father. I know my real…real home. I take your brother is still alive.'_

He nods.

_- 'I take your road has met with… some deaths?'_

_- 'A lot of them'_

Truth is an easy road to follow. He has killed. He has tried to kill his brother twice; no, thrice and possibly more in a frantic rage, a manic desire to be the one-real-son he cannot be. He could do with a lot of things. Being a bastard even if this thing is frown upon as Asgard looks down equally to the parents and the innocent child.

_- 'Regardless, you are a warrior'_

_- 'I am good with daggers. Though, I rely more on my wits than on weapons'_

Words used in lies and truths are weapons and as deadly. 'Jotun' does not lie; the Vanir would know and Loki wonders what else the Vanir has been hiding from him. Like this skill at detecting lies.

_- 'I need to return to my people. My brothers and sisters. My king. They … rely on me. If you help me escape from Svartalfaheimr as these sombre woods indicate, I swear to you our Vanir Lords will allow you to call their realm your home. Whether it pleases Odin. Or not.'_

_- 'You are not afraid of a murderer? I warn you: I have killed … or willed to kill… I wanted to commit genocide. I wanted to kill my father. I killed him!'_

_- 'Metaphorically, yes. You did. Regardless, I understand your foster family is still alive and well. Sort of. You have nothing to lose. What about something to win. All above board, No tricks?!_

Loki turns his head and tries to read despite the dusk which is setting what the Vanir features say. Red curls indeed, a fair Vanir skin and hazel eyes. Impish freckles which belie any claim to full grown manhood given by the beard. And cherry on the cake a snub nose which gives away the truth. The small Vanir is still very much a youth. And all this is but the result of a childish wager among cronies of the same age.

_- ' Loki, I bet you I can cut a bilge snipe' tail without it noticing'_

_- 'Shall I inform our mother of your desire to enjoy an early funeral pyre'_

_- 'Come on. Loki. Don't be a wimp. I bet you I can do it and quicker than you ever will'_

_- 'No you can't. I'll be faster than you'_

_- 'I used to … fight, I used to practice magic'_

_- 'Like Loki. The Loki. Odin's infamous youngest. Sorry, I am lying. Thor, Loki and the so far never seen but seen he will be when Odin wants him to be introduced Balder. Sorry, I babble; you were saying?'_

_- 'What Balder?'_

_- - 'Odin's youngest. Oh, yes, you Asgardians are not supposed to know. Balder is Odin and Frigga's youngest. He is educated in some distant palace far from his older brothers. Mind you I do not blame the parents. Thor is a blundering fool who is war happy as long as he gets to play with his hammer ; as for Loki, Silver-tongue is all cruel mischief and never to be trusted…They say'_

_- 'And what do YOU say?'_

The Vanir does not say. He has only hearsay to give foundation to his ramblings. As far as he as a Vanir can see, Thor and Loki being Odin's sons, they must be brash, assertive and cruel. And mean. Same father, same sons. Balder, the youngest must be a miniature version of his brothers. Maybe. Maybe, Thor is more brawn than brain and terrifies people without knowing it. Maybe Loki… Maybe Loki is not a lie-weaver and is misunderstood.

_- 'My name. My real name is Loki.'_

_- 'Now this is a bad omen! Talk of the wolf and you see his tail. Do not worry. I shall not blame you for sharing a name with Asgard's finest. Loki, now that is Jotun. No clue as what it means. But Jotun it is. Whatever stupid notion of lying to you, your foster parents have entertained, they have none the less given you a proper Jotun name'_

_- 'And your name is?'_

_- 'Err. Little One. I will not bother you with my Vanir name. In Asgard, they can never pronounce our names correctly.'_

Another prevarication. A truth, but not complete. Missing essential parts. Still it is better than all the lies he has been led to believe. Little One. Or Vanir. True callings. Yet not the real name. Still it is better.

_- 'You know a lot of information about Jotunheimr. And secrets about Asgard even the princes are not privy of'_

_- 'Grandfather made sure I was properly educated.'_

_- 'As a Vanir? A simple free man or free warrior? As you call yourself'._

_- 'I am to become a diplomat.'_

_- 'I see'._

A Vanir youth who dabbles in wizardry, yet rides royal spider-horses and is educated on the finer aspects of Jotun diplomacy? Still, tonight, Loki has more important things to do than ponder of the missing truths of this anonymous Vanir.

_- 'Do you read Jotun skin markings?'_

_- 'I do, not well. But I do know the basics'_

_- 'Can you read mine? I have reasons to believe Laufey and I may be … meeting somewhere along our family tree?'_

Night has set and thanks to his Jotun eyes who work better than the Midgardian pitiful infra-red goggles', his sight is as good as in daytime. The Vanir kneels near him, reaching out a tentative hand.

_- 'Ouch! Be careful. These ridges are sensitive'_

_- 'I need to touch. It is dark, you know!_

_- 'It's better. It just… tingles'_

The fingertips brush gingerly on his forehead. Laufey had markings. Does he have the same?

_- 'I knew it!'_

_- 'We must save her. Finding Loki will have to wait.'_

Heimdall has informed the king and Prince Thor of the sudden and tragic turn of events his eyes have witnessed. The Queen and the prince no one is supposed to know about have fallen into the hands of Malekith.

##################################################################################################

A long chapter. But worth it IMHO. Please feedback. Do you like this spin of the tale? Is it worth continuing? Feel free to point out my mistakes. After all, I am not a native English speaker and will take kindly on any advice and guidance you wish to offer.

Regardless, as said. It starts from where roughly Avengers 1 ends up and picks up what we know of the coming Dark World/Thor 2. This is sort of how I would like this movie to be. Not that I do not hold in affection Thor and C Hemsworth is a delightful actor. But I prefer Loki. Voila. Simple. From my POV, the most interesting character is Loki.

I do not want him any redemption or redeeming; but I feel he deserves to live with people who take him as he is without any agenda. Not a name on a bloodline, not a relic, not a baby brother whose crime is to have been adopted like it was some weird medical condition.

OK. Let's move on to chapter 5.


	5. Chapter 5

_- Earth it is, then?_

- _The Tesseract is finely tuned. It opens both ways for who holds it. Malekith has closed his realm to Heimdall's eyes; only the Midgardian Artefact allows the transport of more than two persons. It will be a small posse yet I hope you and the Warriors Three can save the Queen...You are our… my only one hope, Thor._

_- What of Loki?_

-_ The only good piece of information so far. Our mischief-maker is quiet. I thought my magic stronger but clearly he is still able to hide from the Bifrost Keeper._

_- I'll go to Midgard, Father and bring back the Shimmering Compass._

_- And I'll pray Vanaheim remains restful._

_- 'I knew it! I knew there was only one recorded half-breed Jotun with a blue skin!'_

_- 'So I am notorious!'_

_- 'No, dummy. Not you.'_

And he laughs. A clear joyful laugh. Just like Loki had said something very funny and clear. Laughing in the dark night. Loki wonders why he has not throttled the insulting Vanir. _(Wait till you finish being of use and you'll rue the day you were born)._

_- Not, not you. I grant you two are … strikingly blue but No, not you. Beside you are a man, aren't you. I mean: you don't squat to piss, right?_

The artless crudeness of the question makes him blink. How dare this commoner to ask him, to comment on… The night must be a good protector or the AllMother is really stronger than the AllFather's infamous son, because the Vanir carries on, unperturbed.

_- And look at this beard and this hair. Mind you, I told you we were kin. I mean, not exactly kin. You are half Jotun and half Vanir. For the elf or the Aesir, I will spare your blushes. He-he!_

The shameless Vanir pokes his ribs and carries on this indignity. Thanos has done worse and Loki not-of-Asgard has bitten his lips so hard one could have thought them stitched up and bleeding. Thanos is a monster. Another monster. Like him. Unlike the youth who continues his chatter.

- _'So Vanir, thanks to your hair…_

_- 'Says the man whose hair hails from Mushelheim'_

_- 'And Jotun because… Oh I am sorry…. I did not mean. I apologize. I beg your pardon, your Highness'_

The hand shoots up, crushing the Vanir's windpipe. The young man struggles, would be left dead if Loki did not keep the strictest control on each of his actions. Here, deprived of his magic, he depends on the Vanir and the eight-legged steed to take him to Midgard.

Contrary to the Vanir whose words are not intended to wound, Thanos words were cruel and meant each and every sentence to grieve his prisoner more than he ever grieved him bodily. Body. Tomorrow, the creek, he will try and wash off the secret wounds hidden to what is left from his armour. Tonight…tonight he will listen. His hand allows the Vanir to take a deep breath and coughs, choking on his spit.

_- 'DO NOT EVER … mock me.'_

_- 'I was not mocking you. I really mean it. You… you are Jotun's finest. You are a prince. Maybe not a prince, but certainly you have royal Jotun blood flowing in your veins'_

_- 'DO NOT…'_

_- 'I swear. I do not lie. I can explain; I will explain. Do not strangle me, please!'_

Loki does not bother to answer. Princes do not give reasons of their actions to slaves. He is a prince. Deep inside, he has always known it.

A prince. Laufey's son. Loki Laufeyson. It has an honest ring, the perfect true ring to it. Laufey. Laufey. My father, Laufey. Laufey, my father.

My father was defeated by Odin as he was going to invade Midgard. My father was deprived of the Casket of Winters by Odin and by Odin again, my father lost his one son. Odin lied. Lied again. He did not find me in a temple; he must have stolen me from my cot, slaying no doubt my mother.

Odin would not understand the niceties regarding Jotun women. Their females, our womansfolk are smaller though they still tower over the Asgardians, some have softer horns like Aesir women have straight or curly hair. Their hue is lighter; their eyes though are as much scarlet as the males and their nails or one should say their claws ripe apart just as well the unlucky traveller who has displeased their Lord. Regardless, Jotun men are adamant their females are the gentler sex. They keep them deep inside their ice halls. Their beauty is not for strangers and foreigners to behold.

My mother. Mother. For the first time, he tries to see, to imagine another face than Frigga. His mother. Did she love him? Did she try to protect him from Odin? Did she fight for him? Did Odin try and rape her? Did she commit some ritual suicide to repair her honour? Would Odin? His hate would like to say yes. But … No. Odin is devious but does not slay women, nor does he rob them of their virtue.

Mother. He must have seen her if only for a few seconds. But his memory is blank. Odin has robbed him from this precious moment . All he sees is Frigga. All he remembers is Frigga.

Frigga holding him, Frigga guiding his tottering steps in the great golden hall. Frigga laughing as Odin holds him up high and he tries to touch the ceiling of the Throne Room while Thor says: you can fly, brother. So he shuts this memory. Because it is a lie. Because it should have been Laufey and the woman with no face, the anonymous woman who he should have loved and cannot love for the life of him. Because one cannot love as love should be somebody one does not know. Because all he remembers of a gentle mother is Frigga and it grieves him not to love his mother as he should and to love Frigga as he should not and still does. Still does.

Maybe she hated him for being a runt. Because this is what he is. A runt, a failure. Unworthy of being a prince. Too small, too weak. Unable to survive his native realm' harsh climate. A runt who has to be raised in a special nursery made for other weaklings. Maybe truly, his mother has left him exposed in the cold, shamed by his birth. Wishing the cold could kill him and maybe… maybe Odin really took pity on him. He groans. Pity, he cannot stand being pitied. Torture is better. Pain is better. Pitied… It pierces him.

He groans more.

_- 'Sorry. Am I hurting you?... So yes, I know these marks. I do not know by heart all the clans of Jotunheim but I know yours'_

_- 'I know the name of my sire. Laufey… Laufey. Isn't it?!_

Silence answers him. The nimble fingers carry on rubbing, pressing. The Vanir reads and does not reply. Or to be precise, his reply is not the one Loki wants.

_- No. Not Laufey. Why Laufey? Well maybe Laufey. Only your loins will give your father's name. Your clan now is on your forehead and it says what I have been telling you all along: __Vanir and Jotun._

_- Not Laufey?!_

_- Naah. Good old Thrym. And I knew it. No, I did not know it. But it makes sense._

It does not sense at all. As a child schooled by the best tutors Asgard can offer, he has learnt the royal genealogies of all the realms. Thrym, he knows. Thrym of the **very** complicated love life. Thrym was dead and buried a long time before the idea of his father was ever envisioned.

_- Thrym. Yes. Let me read to you. The inner ring says the founder of your clan is good old Utgarda Loki. … Rings a bell. Then Thrym… then we all know who was bedded by cocky Thrym. Then her then you. Yes Logical._

A legend. This is not possible. His father must be Laufey. Not. Not what the Vanir implies. The Vanir is obstinate. The Vanir plods on.

_- Utgarda Loki had a son, his rightful heir and there was a nephew or a cousin. What was his name? Ok, I try again._

Loki hears some dark mutterings about not having paid enough attention to boring Jotun history followed by giggles?

- Utgarda Loki begets Thrym. Thrym being childless leaves the throne to his cousin ... Thiazi? Whatever. Thiazi _begets Skadi who, horror, upon being a female is bypassed by … beats me who begets Laufey because Laufey's dad, smart boy, has bedded Skadi. ... Poor girl. Died young. A hunting accident. They say. She probably wanted to rule a realm where females are locked up, deemed unfit to reign over the big boys._

_- …And?_

_- Well, we all know who Laufey married, don't we?_

Again, the Vanir pokes at him with his elbow.

_- Well. Yes. No. Generally, Jotun concubines are not jostling for power with …'_

_- 'Hence unworthy of Asgard regard. Why am I not surprised? I do not know who your foster father was but he is about as unenlightened as the AllFather! Laufey married Farbauti. Dainty, black hair Farbauti. And we all know who sired her!'_

_- ' I apologize but whores were not regarded as worthy a mention on history books on Jotunheim in the pal… by the paltry schoolteacher who taught me the basics'_

A Hum and a Ha later. The Vanir starts again.

- _Thrym. You know Thrym. Thrym who wanted to court, who actually wooed my… my countrywoman. Fr…Freya. Beautiful, luscious, lustful, sinful Freya! Freya from Vanaheim!_

Freya, the conspicuously, unabashedly promiscuous Freya. The Goddess of Love with more lovers than Yggdrasil has got branches. Winter and Spring! Thrym must have been singularly besotted to ever imagine the very impersonation of subtle womanhood would accept him as bedfellow.

Freya was seen… flying as a kestrel toward Jotunheim. She was a Vanir, thus a natural born shape-shifter. Odin was too young to rule over the Goddess's notion of a one-off. And Freya stayed for a very long time far from Vanaheim for somebody supposed to go only for a one night stand…

What was sure is that Thrym died sonless. Not childless. Freya returned eventually to Vanaheim and to wherever her lust would call her. Thrym died without a son but with a broken heart. And a very young daughter. Much younger than her cousin Skadi who was old enough to have been married to… whoever it was and was already the mother of a very unpleasant Laufey.

_- What does this have to do with me?_

_- To my knowledge, there is one and only one recorded blue half-Jotun. Her name was Farbauti, daughter – some say legitimate daughter of Thrym. Farbauti, the ice maiden. Please, do not tell me, you have never heard of her. Beautiful Farbauti, Farbauti of the_ raven locks? _The Far-Beauty?_

Vanirs do not lie. Just like everybody, he has heard of the unexpectedly pretty consort the Frost Giant has called at his side. Way smaller than Laufey, insufferably proud. Beautiful even by Aesir and Vanir standards. Farbauti. The Ice maiden. Who died young like Skadi. Though not from another hunting accident. The excuse had already been used.

_- Farbauti… but she was not with child, was she?_

_- My amb… my ambassador. The Ambassador of my Realm says she was indeed very much with child. Though it is but a rumour yet the man knows his business. Shapeshifting has its advantages._

_- I have heard of your … specialty._

_- It has to do with being the Gods of Fert….the worshippers of the AllMother, bountiful fertile she is._

And he hears or he feels the air moving as the Vanir conjures some sort of quick prayer he cannot see in the dark.

Farbauti was pregnant and … well. They were married so why not. After all Laufey must have been pining for an heir and it was not exactly bread and roses. Farbauti considered she should be Queen and Laufey should be her consort and not the opposite around. And pregnant she was. She was last seen alive in the ultimate days before her time would come. Being the daughter of a Goddess of Fertility helped. But it did not alter her Jotun biology. Her pregnancy dragged for years!

_- Though Shapeshifting to accommodate Laufey's wish for a son must be… must have been… Sorry. These are vulgar considerations._

He is well past caring the innuendoes. Today, finally he has closed the gap of his ignorance. Today, he is no more a stolen relic but a son ready to take revenge on the one people who have goaded, insulted his father.

_- Laufey is my father, Farbauti my mother and Jotunheim my kingdom… Odin… Oh Avengers, you do not know what you have reaped over your heads._

_- Sorry, there is no reason to avenge you from Odin. Besides, we do not know the entire story. Much is guesswork. We do not know all the fine details. Nobody knows really though grand… our grand king suspects. All we know is that the baby clearly was not Laufey's._

_- What?_

_- Horns. The child was born hornless. So they say. Laufey killed all the midwives to keep it hushed but missed a snow hare. Hares have long ears, isn't it?_

It is true that when one rises so high, one is bound to fall. True, he is half Jotun, true he has some Vanir blood but he is… he is a bastard.

Born to a mother as promiscuous as her own mother. Laufey, his father. The man who should have been his father had been cuckolded. By whom?

Laufey the man he wants to call father, he should have the right to call father. The man his very birth has shamed has grieved. Oh, Loki… Loki poor unlucky, cursed man…

_- Our man believes two things happened for Farbauti has not ever been seen since: Laufey killed her. After all for a Jotun, she was but an adulteress concubine. Daughter of Thrym or not. And the poor hornless infant, live proof of his father's shame must have been killed with her. Because nobody has heard of him ... or her for that stance... ever. Him… her, can't remember. I have so much, too much to remember! The baby died. That much is certain. Well a certainty for my people._

Laufey was right. The whore had to die. She had shamed her husband, shamed her bloodline. Thrym was a fool who deserved to die childless. Better be childless than beget a ... quim! And he feels bile rising to his mouth.

Laufey. Loki will never be Laufeyson. Loki son of no one. Nobody 'son. Loki who has no paternal hall to call home. And the babble carries on and on. Thrym marks are his, but not Laufey. His clan as a Jotun is Thrym's. Not Laufey.

_- One can say what one wants. Farbauti, for all her pride was courageous. She must have known that she was not carrying Laufey's son. Yet, she persisted, smiled and bowed to Laufey. I wonder what I would… I would have done, if I was a woman. I mean._

_- As you are endowed like me with a beard and as I have seen that you piss straight, this question is a waste of my time!_

- _Indeed. I think we should sleep. The spider horse is resting, weaving dreams and his leads are attached safely. He will not gallop away. Tomorrow, we shall look for food!_

If sleep comes quickly to the Vanir as his snores though light are unmistakable, Loki cannot but envy him. His regal dreams have been crushed like a boat is crushed at the bottom of river rapids. All was going so well, so smooth so, deceptively easy, and the current has just insensibly quickened. When he thought he was finally reaching his goal, all he could grasp was thin air and see the rocks at the bottom of the river falls waiting for him to crush most cruelly his hopes.

He is the son of a whore. Not the son of a king. And he wonders who was insane enough to dishonour his fat... to dishonour Laufey. The man who should have been his sire and king.

His loins, the Vanir has said? Tonight is too late. Tomorrow, he will ask what the Vanir means by it.


	6. Chapter 6

Notes to the reader:

Marvel Loki belongs to Marvel; Loki belongs to Himself and the Norse Myths who belong to every one of us.

My Loki looks like T. Hiddleston and about every character I must admit, can be seen through Thor, God of Thunder and Avengers Assemble.

I have no clue, no crystal ball about how Thor: The Dark World is going to be. I try and sail close to the rumours.

I try and sail close to the Myths.

Loki: son of Farbauti (yes, had to).

Stan Lee made Laufey a man. Because it sounded manly. Wrong, Stan!

And not son of Laufey, but should have been.

Ready for another chapter? Here we go…

The forest which covers about the entire realm which is home to the Dark Elves must have had soothing qualities for the Jotun_ (…half-breed… bastard…runt…? Ex-prisoner!_) had finally fallen asleep like his more fortunate companion.

Loki wakes up suddenly. Something must have happened. A creaking branch, a snap. The Vanir is gone… but the horse was still there munching prosaically the grass. The footfall is fading away, barely audible as unconcerned. Weary of danger, cautious not to wake yet not wishing to hide the foot prints. Heading in the direction of the creek which has refreshed their dry mouths last night.

If there is something Loki can do without magic, something so ingrained in him is to walk without being heard. The Vanir was trying to be silent as he could; Loki is Silence. What is the chatterbox doing?

The youth is walking down the stream, where it gets bigger, wider; offering more scope for fishing as the man-child is seriously scanning for fish. Without a rod or a hook? Then he stops abruptly and starts to undo his clothes.

Unlike Asgardians and their armours, Vanirs sport light clothing, a linen shirt and leather leggings, the men can wear tattoos, the female adorn like them their hair with feathers and a hair band marks them out. Both wear thick gold ear-bangles and unlike Aesirs, their hair style is colourful. Old men wear ponytails, but youths run all sizes and shapes of locks, braids, plaits. The more the better. The Vanir's curls must have made him stand out.

The high boots are on the ground, followed by breeches, shirt and necklaces with more beads and more feathers than Aesir men care to call manly. Who is he to judge?

Now naked the young man walks calmly to the river bank and seems to pray but he shimmers and…and? ... and! … And an otter jumps in the fresh water. Soon enough a fish is caught and the otter swims back to the dry land to drop its prey on it and returns to fish another catch. Four fishes later, the otter returns this time to the original spot where it changed its shape and … and again the same phenomenon happens. The young man is no more a curious otter with a fiery red pelt but again a Vanir who must be … 16 or 17 years of Asgardian age. Unless he is older but a really short Vanir.

Loki smiles. His magic may have been stolen from him. But his cunning ways are still his and he knows. He knows the Vanir's secret. He knows there is a secret. Not that the Vanir is a shape-shifter. The youth has not played coy about it. But there has been something else, something his eyes have caught, something which deprived of his sorcery he cannot understand, explain and know. There is something. Something the Vanir is hiding from him. And he wants to know what it is about. In his own good time.

The young lad is dressing up when he jerks suddenly…

_- I see you are dressed up. Nice trick. How do you plan to cook your … interesting catch? Little one. Little otter?_

_- I would like to offer a fire but we are not safe here._

_- Afraid of the Dark Elves, are you?_

The child. Little One. The child has no qualms about admitting a sincere revulsion regarding Malekith and his folk, his disgust at trolls and his rage at some dwarves whose love for Gold has led to rapacity and crime.

- Malekith is an arrogant bastard. I do not mean you. He dared, he was presumptuous enough to … as much as actually ordering my gr…great khan to ally ourselves … to him against Odin. I hate Asgard and its brashness… and and…. And all the oppression it represents against my people. Odin, even Odin has never ever lacked of respect to my … king. Never. We told him not to deface our realm again.

_- The mines are attractive and will attract more greedy visitors._

_- The mines and our spider-horses. Imagine what damage our cavalry could inflict on Asgard if our horsemen were to listen again to the war-drums. If we were again to stretch tight our great triple bows…_

_- Child, you are a Vanir. Do not tell lies! You are not strong enough for any war bow-string!_

Little One does not tell lies, Little One is offended. He collects the fish, pierces their skin with a thin yet sharp branch and carries them back to the semblance of a camp near Sleipnir. He keeps two catches for another repast, takes one and rips the raw flesh with gusto. In silence.

Taking a pet. Throwing a tantrum. Punishing him by blessed silence. Loki does not care. It is not the silent anger of a capricious child which will destabilize him. No. Yet against all logic, he misses the voice with the unmistakable lilted accent.

They free Sleipnir and the Vanir starts to get on its back when he learns his mistake. Loki has no magic. But he is older, stronger and wilier.

_- I don't think so. We shall walk. Both of us._

_- Be careful. I could turn nasty. I could turn… into a … a lynx._

_- I have broken the neck of snow lions. Do you want me to show you how it can be done?_

The irate sigh is accepted as a peace offering.

_- Do you have a dagger?_

_- What for? Not that I have one. As a rule, prisoners benefit from a thorough body search to avoid files and similar instruments or weapons to be introduced in their premises. They left the vial because I told them it contained a perfume for a sweet lady. I had to beg them!_

_- I'd like to cut down this unnecessary facial adornment. My br…other and foster father… they feel one is only a man if … but not me._

_- I know the feeling. Grandfather shaves, but some of our people copy Asgard fashions. I will shave when we are home!_

Loki smirks. A typical Loki snide smirk and the Vanir is not happy about this. Has he heard well? Has Loki implied he is not man enough?

_- I am man enough to be betrothed!_

_- And who is the unlucky one?_

_- I have never met… I mean our clan has taken care of it. Since childhood. We are promised to each other. Pledged. Honour-bound and all that._

_- And you are to marry this unknown person like a good little boy who is being told to do so; like a puppet on a string obeys his master's will._

His clan honour is engaged. The two families have sworn to uphold it. Both clan leaders have shaken hands while AllMother blood was poured on them. Now, he is but one blood with his promised.

_- I take she is Vanir. Or should I say as Vanirs can be pure Vanir._

_- Yes. I am not keen on Aesirs._

They stop again later in the afternoon and both , this time in companionable silence, they finish the fish. Loki is glad for the rest. Between Thanos interlude, Asgard jail and his beatings by the Hulk not to say the lack of training since such a long time, since the fall, he is seriously unfit. His legs are tired and really I could do with two or three of Idunn's own.

_- I am concerned we are a target._

_- Stating the obvious…_

- _I can… I can make you …more like me…_

If Asgard like Jotunheimr look at mixed breeds with reluctance, yet somehow tolerate them in their midst if their external appearance is not obeying to the local canons on how a Jotun or an Aesir should look, Svartalfaheimr cannot abide them, looks down at them like they were an abomination and not the result of what is most of the time an act borne of Love.

If it must have been unpleasant for the Jotun, the half-breed Jotun to be raised as such by his Asgardian foster family letting him feel like a cuckoo in a nest of eagles, it will be deadly for him here. His blue skin makes him standing out, worse: his Vanir hair does only pull the scales down of intolerance.

_- 'I … I can make you blend more. Be less Jotun and Vanir. More elfin though without their ears. We shall be acceptable mixed breed.'_

_- 'I take it that Vanirs are not held in regard these days when Svartalfaheimr is ruled by Malekith'_

_- 'I…We…our Khan told them to present his salutations to Surtur. Personally I persist to think that to tell them to get lost was way too polite._

Being part Vanir explains for his susceptibility for Shape Shifting and his successful ruses regarding detection from Heimdall. The Skywalker simply unfurled unknown to him potential powers. But without his native magic, he is a plain Jotun who cannot change shape nor go from real to realm without crossing the Bifrost.

_- 'Vanirs can alter their appearances, not someone else!'_

_- 'What if… you let me ask AllMother? What if we pray her together, to walk through the Forest and allow us to pick up the many fruits she gives?'_

He resists. He is not a heretic. Not yet. Not totally.

He worships the AllFather and the man who is now holding the supreme title. Odin is the AllFather. Hated, he may be; still it is the AllFather All Powerful All Knowing. Odin rules. Odin. Not a female! Not a mere female. Not that he disrespects women. Sif is a very good warrior indeed and has shown more than he cares to accept that she is not to be overlooked much to his shame. Mot…The Queen. The Queen is all wisdom and Love. And if he knows better, he will not go further. He worships the AllFather. That's it!

_- 'You are not obliged to believe. Pray sincerely whoever you believe in. As long as you are sincere, as long as you are true, AllMother will listen to you. AllMother is all power. If she chastises, it is in all fairness and she sees through each and every offering. Your honesty is the key to her heart.'_

Loki could explain that he is the God of Lies. Honesty and truth are not exactly part of his domains. Since the void, nothing is working for him. But since he has met the Vanir, things are slowly turning to his advantage. Luck, Lady Luck is again in his favour. To be taken at face value, not to have to tell lies… Though, he does not say the Truth, He does not Lie. And he does not wish to wound, to displease the Vanir. And tricking the confiding youth is such fun!

They both crouch, knees in the ground, face to face. The Vanir puts his hands up, palm facing his. And he takes the same position. The Vanir has his eyes closed but Loki knows better. He looks, darting furtive appraising eyes around and on his companion. The Vanir prays, opens his eyes and digs inside his pockets.

The vial originally used in the prison, the vial used in the vault, the vial full of the mystical fluid contained by the Casket of Winters is lying in his palm.

_- 'I do not plan a great change. Just to alter your skin and your hair'_

As such he sprinkles a few drops of the precious liquid on Loki still upturned hands. Nothing happens. Nothing because he has not seen it! When Loki was Loki of Asgard in Jotunheimr, when Loki had this terrible altercation with his then-father, it took time for him to reverse from Jotun to Aesir and the opposite.

But this… this is immediate. Like a coat of paint. If he had his magic, but he has lost it and all he can see are the consequences and not the mystical process. On-off like a Midgardian light device.

_- 'And you still have to shave. Our people are shaven. Like the Elves of whatever creed'_

If Vanirs are not held in high esteem for Dark Elves, mixed breed Jotuns are in aversion, execrated by Malekith minions. Better be of gentle and Dark Elfin extraction with some unexplained Vanir streaks then.

Still there is a massive problem to resolve. Vanirs shave and they have no knife between the pair of them.

_- 'We shall find something. Cut a sharp stone. Not the easiest smoothest blade but we shall make a man of you!'_

_- 'Thank you. I think I am man enough and unlikely you, I know what it entitles.'_

It is time to remind the youth of who is who and who gives order in this team!

_- 'Find me a stone… like… like this obsidian one…'_

Soon enough the two men are trying to trim the stone. Soon enough, he feels the blade brush his skin and it cuts. It stings but it cuts and trims and the hair falls down. And it falls.

Red.

_- 'What!'_

_- 'It seems AllMother has a great sense of humour. You will certainly stand out. You are a very tall Vanir. Not that it does not exist. My father was tall. I take after Mother. Now with all this ginger, auburn. Red sunset, strawberry blonde…'_

Loki looks at him utterly disgusted. Why not brown? Like a good part of Vanaheimr citizens? He is doomed to stand out. Just like in Asgard when he was not blonde or plain brown and the butt of children jokes.

_- 'Eh Loki, AllFather dropped you in a walnut stain bath?_

_- 'Eh Loki, got too close to the octopuses?'_

_- 'Eh Loki, still some tar on your comb?_

His blood is boiling under the outrage and the Vanir… the Vanir seems to make fun….

_- 'It fits you. It fits YOU! I shall braid some hair. A ponytail maybe and yes… a goatee. You must know you are… you are quite a very impressive Vanir. Personable and all that. If they get to see you… his harem may prove to be a handful for Malekith. You are mixed breed but they will think twice. Muspellsheimr would not put up with any abuse of her menfolk._

_- 'Thank you. Can we move on…?'_

The Vanir pokes him and stands up from where he was sitting.

_- 'You are now as safe as me here. … This is more than you were and still quite far from ideal. We must find a meadow to let Sleipnir gallop and weave us home. As it stands, I do not fancy a long string of raw meat meals. Otter or not!'_

_- 'At least some of my garments are repaired'_

_- 'Told you. You are Vanir. Green and Gold. And arm plates. Hmmm. Impressive. Let's hope it will impress the trolls._

_- 'Beware, Jane. What you have seen today is but a fragment of Malekith powers. Be careful. He knows about you!_

_- 'S.H.I.E.L.D. will do what ir does best. Hide me and lie about my whereabouts. And Earth is not without its protectors. The Avengers have shown to your brother we, Midgardians as you call us, are not to be overlooked.'_

_- 'I shall come back. I promise. Father will oblige Njord to share more of the Dark Energy. He will convince this obdurate, obstinate old man. Then, I shall return to you'_

_- 'I love you'_

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_Loki has red hair. See the Norse Mythology. Otherwise watch Henry V : the Hollow Crown and you will have a good idea of Loki except his hair is straight and longer. _


	7. Chapter 7

-_ 'You need to go as soon as possible to Svartalfaheimr. Lady Sif, I rely on you and the Warriors Three to keep my heir, my first born, Thor safe. Asgard cannot … I will not carry on losing my sons. Nor my people.'_

Thor knows something is wrong. The last time he has seen his father as angry, it was before he was exiled, sent to Midgard, But now, there is an added flavour to the AllFather anger. It is the despair of a man who does not have much left to lose. If Malekith carries on sending wave after wave of legions of Dark Elves, Asgard will fall. This is the 'Realm Eternal' last stand. Thor is about to leave; as Heimdall sets the parameters of the Midgardian Compass, the prince turns to face his father for a final query

-_ 'What if Loki…?'_

_- 'We can only hope he will remember he is first and foremost of Asgard'!_

The energy which bursts from the Compass engulfs the five warriors and Odin is left alone with the Bifrost Golden keeper. Heimdall bows to the AllFather.

- _'I never thought that the day would come I would hold dear to this hope…'_

###################################################################################################

_- 'If we carry on following the stream, we shall end up to some real wide bank large enough for my Sleipnir to run free and water is not an issue here. Ground must be even, flat and smooth…'_

_- 'All sorts found - no doubt - most easily in a forest full of fallen branches, foliage half rotten and stones making walking straight without spraining one's ankles nearly impossible.'_

_-'You are snarky. I like it.'_

_- 'You like being at the receiving end of sarcasm?'_

_- 'When it is said in a nice way. I do not mind. You should hear Grandfather. "You, little idiot good-for-nothing pitiful jackanapes; what will you do when I am gone?" "You never achieve anything. How can you pretend to ru...run our horse herd when you cannot throw your spear no further than 50 feet from your nose?" "What will happen of our people? Abject failure!" That is in his good days. Or when he is tired by too much shouting at me!_

The child is enumerating a winding list of insults with a proud grin. The old man seemed to be set on a course of abusing his only heir, yet the smile and the quiet air of satisfaction of 'Little One' were at odds with the suspicion of abuse.

- 'Grand Father is a knowing one!'

The following wink betraying the strong bond of affection is a bittersweet fleeting instant of reflection for the Jotun. When was the last time somebody has insulted him with what looks like real pride for his achievements?

- _'When I managed to stretch the war bow of our clan and kill a doe… you should have heard him. "You, mollycoddle chattermucker noddypole! You missed not one but three rabbits and a fox. An old fox. Mercy me. Lord Fox will have a good laugh tonight under his tent. Go and pick up the doe. I am hungry". Gramp was beaming. He was so proud and so red in face of shouting he could have been Surtur himself!_

_- 'I take he is nice?_

_- 'You bet! He is the best grandfather of Vanaheimr and the nine Realms including all the universes of the Forest hidden by Yggdrasil I know naught about. But he is a right'un!'_

Loki would tell, should tell the Vanir to shut up but he finds he cannot. How long has it been since he has held a conversation with somebody who knows Yggdrasil for a reality, who knows Asgard is ruled by Gods, who does not fear him? Who does not try to trick him, to lie to him?

The Vanir may be chirpy; it seems his old sire has managed to imprint some wisdom in him. The child stops quickly to speak and they carry on walking through the dense woods. Alone. Trying to be as silent as can be for the Vanir. Loki who is cautious is more cautious if it were possible. Malekith's troops can be met any time. If it happens, they are but two. And they have no weapon to speak of.

If they were to meet a posse of trolls, the old man will die without heir and Odin will have to build another pyre.

Silent still, they manage to avoid meeting as far as they can tell any Dark Elf. Loki without magic is stuck into his Jotun form and this Vanir glamour only holds because of Little One. Shape Shifting is out of his reach until Odin deems him worthy of his magic. How could Odin give him back such magical power? Why would he?

Once again, the youth morphs into an otter and dives into the current. But despite his efforts, he is unlucky tonight. Sleipnir has no problem; the wild, tall clumps he is chewing seem to satisfy his hunger. Alas, the two men cannot feed on grass. The will have to. unless … The Vanir is stubborn. A red weasel meanders through the bushes and is gone. Silence rules.

Until the desperate noises, the pitiful squeals of a struggling prey are heard. Loki jumps with a start. What if… Instants later, not one but two dead rabbits are half-carried, half-pushed ahead in front on him appear. The ginger weasel morphs into the Vanir who stumbles and would fall if Loki did not hold him back.

_- 'Sorry. It …it is… just… Let me… let me…catch… my breath!'_

_- 'Your grandfather is right. You are a fool. Courage without wisdom is …'_

_- 'Is what?'_

Say what you want. The child is incredibly as much foolish as he is brave. A day, this young man will also be wise and a great … lord he will be. All he needs is to be gently nudged and reminded that foolhardy arrogance can undo what a courageous heart can win.

- _'You'll show your mettle later. Rest. I'll fleece the long ears as edible as can be meat when uncooked'_

Little one seems surprised but gladly, too gladly showing his exhaustion he accepts. Soon, he curls up and Sleipnir kneels by him. The Spider horse neighs and allows the man to use him as a pillow. Strange sight, mystical vision indeed. A steed that can unite in one jump two realms asleep along a child who can become any live creature he wants. Both at peace with the Universe both like sleeping children carried by the tender tendrils of Yggdrasil.

Loki holds in his hand the makeshift blade of the obsidian stone applying his patience to sharpen its edge. Patience, just patience…

The child has awakened and along Loki eaten the raw bleeding flesh. Now he smiles with a predatory smile which reminds Loki of the otter. Crouching, he inspects the discarded innards of the rabbits and with a knowing finger plucks out the guts.

- _'Loan me your blade. Tomorrow our hunt will be easier.'_

The guts are sliced in thin ribbons, washed in the stream, rubbed with some herbs carefully selected. Now, hanging they will dry after Sleipnir has performed his own part. Asgard calls Vanirs old fashioned and backward; Asgard' best without his weapons and armours would be lost defenceless in this forest. Little One without armour, sword and war hammer is building from scratch a little bow. Little One, the drunken youth against whom Fandral has bet has escaped Asgard's prison and is now whittling arrows with a carved stone and branches from an Elfin tree. And Loki feels … proud.

How long has it been since he has felt pride? Pride to be walking along somebody he respects? Pride to share a common adventure, shared danger? How long has it been?

Next morning, finds him shaken by the Vanir.

_- 'Good morning to you, my Jotun friend. We need to carry on following the stream. At one point, this fiendish forest will surrender and gives us the space needed for a weaver gallop.'_

Loki smiles… yes, he smiles. A true smile. Last night, his dreams have been pleasant, bringing back memories of a long gone past. Yet a happy past. Such as a hunting trek with Thor. His first and Thor's first as a mentor. Though it was Thor who almost drowned him by too much information and worry and it was him who was overly cautious, he has recognized the very same mood. A brotherly mood. Today, it is his turn to be the anxious older wiser brother making sure his bold naïve younger sibling achieves his aim without endangering everybody including the World Tree and this feeling is good.

Sleipnir trots behind them. The Vanir holds his bow in case of danger; Loki has his blade out. Just like in the good old days. There is just a difference. This time, the two brothers are not being lied to. Or just the minimal white lie. Little One believes him to be a half breed Jotun who he is. Who he is in truth! And the Vanir does not lie to him. Oh there is this secret the little jail dodger is hiding or as Loki would say the secret he fondly believes safe. In which he is gravely mistaken. And as such, there is no lie between them and it feels good.

The two men walk in silence, breaking the monotony by once and a while stopping and refreshing their dry throats by long gulps of fresh cool water along Sleipnir. The silence gives time to think. Silence can be a friend. Brother…

Brothers. Eldest, youngest. What does it mean? Loki who has always been the non-first born, who has always been the one who follows is now discovering what it takes to be the older sibling. The one who gives guidance and wise counsels. And discovers to his surprise trying to guide a naïve but headstrong younger brother is not an easy feat.

The Vanir would like to stop, change his shape and fly over the forest and see where to go. Loki reminds him that shape shifting is exhausting, putting him at risk of bigger predators and of attracting unwelcomed attention from the denizens of Svartalfaheimr! Loki does not want to return in jail despite the pleasure of the Vanir's company!

Both bicker like they had known each other since … ever?! And it feels so good, so nice. Loki still dreams of revenge against Midgard, against Odin. Loki does not mind if his vengeful dreams suffer a setback in form of a prolonged delay.

They walk until the Vanir raises a hand, sniffs the air and walks to the foot of a tree. He looks at something Loki does not see but feels deep in him does spell danger.

- _'Trolls crap. One day old. If we are lucky, a day and a half'_

They walk slowly now. Slow and weary. Sleipnir does not neigh and walk curiously as silently as a spider weaves her web. The Vanir picks up a few herbs but does not give them to the horse. Instead he pushes them in his pockets. And they walk again. Wearier and so silently Silence is noisy compared to them.

They would stop but have no choice. The longer they stay in Svartalfaheimr, the riskier it gets for them to be captured. That or killed. Whatever fate waits for them, it is not good. Thus, they walk hoping the trolls have crossed the river or crossed the wood away, far away from them.

And Sleipnir whinnies. A long whinny and a net falls on their heads. And they try and push it away. Loki's blade cuts the net of vines and the little bow does its best. The arrows though small do not miss their targets. Already, two trolls are down and Loki has almost finished another one when he sees in the corner of his eye a Dark Elf pulling something looking like an elfin version of a Midgardian machine-gun and aims at the Vanir.

All his being groans No and he pushes the Vanir down while covering him with his body. And realizes too late he has no magic ability left to conjure doubles. It is him who is in the direct target-line of the weapon. Elfin or not, bullets are the same and this time for the first time ever, it is his body who gets the full brunt of the shots, It hurts and all fades to black.


	8. Chapter 8

The next conscious thing he knows when he comes around is that it is painful to be alive. To be still alive. And it hurts. It hurts badly. At each breath intake, his left chest is stabbed and stabbed again. Like a paper slowly ripped apart. He is walking, pushed in the back by a stupid troll and half carried by… by Little One who struggles, who bites his lips tight but does not give in. Who will not give in. Will let him down to be finished off by the ugly trolls who are all too ready to count him as their next main course.

_- 'I see … we have … gained … interesting… road… road companions.'_

_- 'They have Sleipnir'_

The tone used by the Vanir is a warning. Loki wants to know the extent of this knowledge; what do the Dark Elves who ride along the pitiful duo, know about the mystical steed … but the excruciating pains in his left side and shoulder remind him his breath is shallow and it will take a miracle to see him still alive tonight.

They walk. They have nothing better to do. They walk and each step is pain. Pain is something he knows. Thanos has trained him very well indeed. Pain he manages. Between the unfailing help of the little Vanir and he does not know what, maybe his own will to survive, he still walks.

Do Gods die, Thor? Thor did not die. As for himself, he did not die in the void. Maybe Gods can will themselves to close their eyes forever. Today, he wants to live. Today, he does not let go off the struggling young lad who helps each of his stumbling steps.

For if Little One is weak, he is stubborn and obstinately decided to help the taller older man. With the reluctant lift once and a while of a troll when it is not a pull on his wounded side which makes him bite his lips till they really, really bleed, yes, with reluctant help from his captors, he still walks though it is a most gruelling task.

If they walk too slowly, a sharp whip falls on their shoulders. What is a whip compared to the poisons he has been fed by The Other? What is a whip when it falls on the shoulders of what is but a child, a king good-hearted child? Little One bites his lips too but does not give in.

_- 'I hope you are proud of your brother. The kid did not want to abandon you to our smelly allies.'_

_- 'I hope you can rely on something else than your friends. My brother is worth a thousand of each of them.'_

The whip falls again on his shoulders while a troll viciously pushes the young Vanir flat on his face on the ground. Both of them end up crawling while Elves and Trolls find the scene very funny.

-_ 'Look at the so-called proud Vanirs. Vanirs who cannot stand their mead.'_

_- 'Enough. We must reach the Hall before the night.'_

The two prisoners crouch, kneel and get back to their feet and carry on their tortured march. Step by step. Brothers united under one common will. Each step is a step fought together against their oppressors; each step is a battle won together against their enemies.

Gods heal quickly. Jotuns heal more slowly but they heal. A God who shape shifted into a Jotun to morph in a Vanir apparently has lost along the way this power. It must be that or Little One's magic is much more powerful than anticipated. Vanirs are Gods playing at Men; Loki wishes they would be sometimes less complicated.

- '_How far are we from where you are taking us?'_

_- 'Arfff, Baby knows how to speak!'_

_- 'My brother is wounde . Bleeding. Will you stop and allow me to clean his wounds? Allow us to drink … or you might as well kill us here and never ever know why Odin's favourite stallion, why The AllFather's eight legged horse has ended up in your realm.'_

The trolls offer to torture them immediately to get the answer but are denied the treat by their Elfin Commanding Officer. Malekith still hopes to convince Njord to change his neutrality in favour of support. Malekith who has managed the brilliant coup of capturing the Lady Frigga and Odin's youngest son knows there is something about the horse and believes he can learn the magic, learn the spell and dominate all the realms.

_- 'Some people want to bite more than they will ever chew…'_

_- 'Stop it, Little One. We want to reach alive whatever sumptuous accommodations these gentlemen have planned for us.'_

_- 'Tell the brat to calm down or he will get a beating he will never have a chance to forget.'_

And they march on. The troop has followed the stream which is now a river with ironically enough perfect meadows ready for a gallop their horse cannot take. Sleipnir trots placidly behind as usual. And as usual during each stumble they take, Little One has secured a weed here, a grass there. Maybe there is a reason … or not. Maybe the youth has given into madness. Maybe there is a grand plan. Loki is just wishing one thing. Let it stop. Let this march stop!

At least when he fell into the void, there was no pain. When he fell into Thanos claws, he was alone to suffer. Now, he is in pain and he fears for his companion. And he wonders why he has entertained for a fleeting moment the notion that his run of bad luck as about to change.

-_ 'Please, I beg of you. Stop for my brother. He cannot last long without water. Please.'_

Little One let go off Loki and kneels to the commander, prostrating before the haughty Dark Elf (Gramp will understand. I cannot let my companion like that. The Trolls are monsters!).

- _'Please'_

This time, the red curls have reached the level of the soil from upon which he crawls before the Elves and the Trolls'.

-_ 'Please, he needs water. I swear on the AllMother I will not refresh my thirst. Please.'_

_- 'Only your brother.'_

- 'Thank you, most generous and fair Lord.'

The two prisoners stagger as they reach the river bank and Loki falls, his upper body soaking slowly into the stream. He feels blessed water reaching his lips and manages somehow to sits back on dry land while the Vanir uses his cupped hands to bring water. And mutters under his breath some vital information, turning his back to the trolls who are emptying their bladder upstream from they are.

-_ 'I must have a look at your wounds (Speak loud)'_

_- 'MORE WATER.'_

_- '(We must get to our prison as soon as possible)'_

_- 'WHY DO YOU STOP? FOOL! I said more water'._

_- 'I hurry, brother. HURRY (The glamour is wearing off!)'_

_- 'That's enough. We must not presume on our kind hosts. And their hospitable friends.'_

Everybody in Asgard would have shivered when and if Loki had used his silken tongue in such a smooth gentle manner. Everybody would have known Silver Tongue was getting ready for the kill. Ignorance is a blessing and the trolls carry on their noisy rude comments on the two prisoners. Ignorance is a blessing because they do not know they are already dead. Not yet, true. But Loki will kill each of the three trolls as soon as he is free and he will be free. Soon. Every prison has a weakness. All it takes is to find it and time to find it. And time neither is nor rationed when one is a prisoner.

They reach a great hall near a vast expense of some sort of training ground. It must have been a meadow at one point. And they fall into a babel of noises only surmonted by a babel of countless troops of warriors.

##################################################################################

- _'Hurry up guys! f***** g Thor of f***** g Asgard has reached our realm. Lord Malekith's attempt to steal the Midgardian Compass has failed and now, the Thunderer is here to restore Odin's bitch and cub to his blasted father.'_

_- 'Could be worse. At least the Trickster is no more.'_

_- 'Malekith knows more than one trick and he, at least. Is alive.'_

The prisoners reel, pushed one side to the other by the Trolls, by the soldiers who have pledged to fight at Malekith's side. Odin has made numerous enemies. Instead of building up alliances with his equals the Vanirs Gods, he has humiliated the losing camp. Aesirs have yet to learn that winning a war is not winning hearts. The soldiers carry on their conversations unhindered by the prisoners who are pushed deeper and deeper inside their ranks. Deep inside the Hall who is more like a war dungeon than a king's palace. Everything smells of war, of blood soon to be shed and the prisoners are pushed about, inside. Always deeper inside and they are pushed and pushed. And Loki pushes his hands deeper in his pocket as to prevent his blue skin to show. And he knows his eyes have turned red because he sees differently now. He is obliged to look down, to look humiliated if he wants to avoid hearing the word Jotun as to end up this life of his in this miserable dishonourable way. So he looks down, accepts to be mocked, accepts the help, the much needed help Little One provides and listens to the brouhaha of voices and stories and conversations not directed at him. He listens and his Jotun blood is boiling. Unless it is his Aesir one?

Aesirs mock the supposedly effete Elves, who love poetry, ridicule their Darker Cousins who prefer sorcery. Aesirs use and abuse the knowledge stored by the Dwarves over millennia, smiting gold and more. Aesirs despise Midgardians innocence and call their ignorance of magic stupidity. Yet who scorns those who practice magic but the Aesirs?

Who but the Aesirs reject Hel and her loyal followers? Not everybody can die in battle. Death comes when the Dark Lady decides, not when the All Father says so. Death is a bride who plays coy with her lover only to surrender when he least expects it. Death is a bride who decides now and where she will consummate the ultimate alchemy.

Odin has won so many battles; so many the skalds have lost count of. Too many battles forgetting that the only battle worth winning is the last battle. Odin has waged too many wars and by everybody's account the day of reckoning has come. Valhalla is overflowing and knocking on Hel's door to welcome its excess.

Only Niflheimr and Muspellsheimr have so far escaped Asgard's roving eyes for more riches, more tributes to be paid to its imperial glory. Its avarice, its greed. Today or rather tomorrow a new order will reign. Gone will be the Realm Eternal might, ruined will his ambitions be! Lord Malekith will rule. Blessed be our Dark Elf Lord. Blessed will be the Accursed and his name will be flying from towers to towers from realm to realm as the Saviour of the World Tree.

Sadly Jotunheimr is grieving Laufey. Jotunheimr cannot participate the great wave of discontentment which is about to engulf Asgard. Luckily Laufey's murderer has died too. Loki, now he should be named the Accursed has died but a few moments later. The Bifrost has been destroyed in this epic fight. Malekith cannot rely on Jotunheimr; it is just a matter of time before the Jotuns join his victorious army. Odin cannot rely anymore on his second son. In this game of complicated Hnefatafl, Malekith is winning the battle of the dead.

At long last, they are much surprised when they reach a wall and they hear the sound of a heavily barred door closing on their back. Blessed silence greets them. They turn around. Rather Little One turns around for Loki has walked up to the wall facing him and is ever so slowly falling as his blue hands cannot find a stone to prevent this fall.

- _'We are alone. Our 'friends' are leaving us alone.'_

A quick look and they realize they have the comfort of a rather full jug of brackish water, very dry bread already object of the stamp of approval of a family of mice and two mouldy blankets.

- _'I shall make some dressings out of one blanket. Now undress and let me tend to your wounds.'_

_- 'It can wait. … Loki, my friend, you are losing your wits about. Yes… my wounds. Dress them. Do you think that … once it's done, you can repair the glamour.'_

_- 'I certainly can try… Ahhhhh… If only I could ride Sleipnir. In less time to say Thor, I would be landing in Vanaheimr. Yes, I would and our cavalry would teach Malekith that Elves are not Gods!'_

Loki could try to present the irony of a Vanir who pretends to be a man yet at the first test resumes to his Godly status. Loki is too tired to discuss this absurdity. He slowly removes his armour and allows the nimble hands of his young companion to stop his wounds from bleeding. Allows prayers to the AllMother without balking. Allows the cleansing of his tired body.

-_ 'We must save some water and bread. I have no clue when our most refined hosts plan to remember we need feeding.'_

_- 'Please, refrain from antagonizing them. I am sure the troll standing on my right has broken one or more of my ribs.'_

_- Shall I clean your back?'_

Loki is now barechested. The shoulder wound which is paradoxically the most painful has been the easiest to dress. He bends over to allow the Vanir to assess how extensive the damage is. Being a half-breed has some advantages, but also clearly some major inconveniences.

His skin as far as he can see now as the only light they get is from an equally heavily barred opening up on the far wall. The moonlight though not exactly providing the best of light cannot hide the fact his hands, his forearms are straightforwardly blue.

_- 'If I can manage to stench this trickle of bleed, I can repair your …ooh?... ooh!... glamour. Now stop fidgeting and let me proceed. Healing requires the proper mood, the proper prayers and the proper magic. As such it is not too long, but it is the process which takes ages.'_

_- 'You like healing?'_

_- 'Yes, I would have liked if… I mean I am still young … and Grandfather says I just need to set my heart into becoming a leader of men … and… and everything will be all right. And this is it. Your wound should shortly be repaired. By next moon, your glamour will be just as good as new. Meanwhile…'_

Meanwhile, he will stay in the shadow of the tall wall facing the bars. The gaoler will see his legs stretched on the uneven floor. Little One will do the talking and the collection of whatever pittance is allocated to them.

-_ 'If only I could run, jump over Sleipnir's back, I swear I could return and shoe Malekith. Yes, I would! Our trustful horsemen would ride behind me and…'_

_- 'And? I believe Malekith is not the only man suffering from delusions. Why would your King allow you to lead his cavalry is an interesting mystery. Shall I be enough emboldened to ask you …'_

_- 'Grandfather is a trusted friend... He… he has the ear of our young Lord: the Heir of the Vanirs. If needs be, our young Lord would come and show Malekith not to tamper with us...'_

_- 'Would he? How … enthusiastic it must be for you to be on a first name basis with such elated individuals!'_

The Vanir does not bother to answer. He helps back in his shirt Loki but not in the armour. There is the thickness of the bandages to take in account; plus the heavy metal would rub most cruelly on the wounded flesh. As it is. Loki is too tired to complain by now. Allowing the youth to help and cover his body with the unused blanket, he looks knowingly at Little One and asks the question which is now the most important question of his life.

- _'When you were kneeling behind my back, attending to the wound of my left side, what sign, what rune, and what symbol did you see on the markings of my back? What did you see which made you think twice? Whom are my loins calling Father?'_

_- 'And you thought you and this lamentable troop, sorry. handful of men could defeat me?'_

_Malekith sneers at the defeated Asgardians. Sif and the Warriors Three are surrounded by Dark Elfin soldiers. And the odds in favour of the Aesirs are about nil. Worse, Thor is like petrified, moving his right hand calling Mjolnir ... but Mjolnir is deaf. What sort of spell is that?_

_- That, my dear Asgardian so-not-friend, is a simple spell. Anybody could perform it. My, even your brother could do it! The secret is not in rendering Mjolnir slave to any other's will save your own, but in rendering Mjolnir like... deaf to your call. Nobody can lift Mjolnir. So what? The main thing is that you cannot use it._

_He lifts his hand and an officer comes to his side and they mutter. Something funny if one is to believe the knowing smirk of both hateful faces._

_- 'I suspect Lady Frigga would think me uncouth if I was to take you to her side. You see, your young brother, I mean your youngest brother still needs his nap. But I will not be churlish. I shall offer you the comfty of my best appartments.'_

_Thor cannot move. Thor reels. His mother is captive. All his efforts have been in vain... and he has a brother. A younger brother still alive. A brother he knows nothing about. A brother who does not even know he is bereft of another brother. Thor sighs and knows in his heart that if Loki had been around, Malekith's maleficent spell could not have succeed. Asgard's hopes now rest on the shoulders of a runaway who probably does not even know of the tragic recent developments._

_- 'Take them to the cells'_


	9. Chapter 9

- _'What have you found? Who is my father? My real father! Not the man who raised me, pretending I was his son while all along I was but a mean, a relic of times gone by. A stolen relic what's more, Tell me! Now! I do not beseech you. I ORDER YOU. NOW.'_

_- 'I cannot, my friend. It does not make sense. No sense at all.'_

_- 'I'll make sense of it. Tell me!'_

_- 'That is… that I have touched more than seen. Jotuns are … complicated people. A clan here for your mother yet not your mother. No, must be a man. Your mother's father. And naturally your father because you are born from his loins. Jotuns are seriously warped; I am telling you Loki Seriously warped!'_

Loki wants to know, wants to stifle the indignant flow which reflects on Vanaheimr's disregard on what Asgard and Jotunheimr take as a permanent fact of life. Women are subservient to their menfolk. Unlike in the Jotun realm where females are second class citizens, Asgard let them free… as long as they respect the truce. Gentle arts, soft spoken ladies… It does not come to a surprise Sif wanted to run out of this stifled life.

-_ 'Vanir women do as they please, can take as many lovers as they want and Loki looks pointedly at Little One. The youth stammers if they want. If they want, that is. They can be anything, the sky is the limit. AllMother does as she pleases. Thus, Vanir women enjoy total freedom.'_

_- 'You wanted to be a healer'_

_- 'I want to do what is best for my people. I am responsible in front… Vanir men and women alike are responsible for their decisions in front of the AllMother. AllMother sounds each and every heart equal. Equal.'_

My father… You are trying to hoodwink me in discussing how much better your realm is than mines. Who is my father? WHO?

The Vanir is dreadfully sorry. He cannot. For the life of him, he cannot. There is not enough light in their cell now. By tomorrow hopefully, the glamour will be solidly back, solidly woven to Loki's skin.

- _'Once we are free, I promise by the AllMother, … and the AllFather – May they burn my heart if I lie, I promise I shall tell you. Every man should know his father's name. Let's sleep. You're a bigger fella. Take the large blanket. I'll be fine with the now smaller one.'_

It is late; they are exhausted and sleep sounds the very right thing to do. Little One curls up in his sleep like a confiding puppy and Loki would like to make sense of all this flow of information: what is relevant, what is not. Finds that he cannot; finds that sleep is attractive. Hopes that maybe, one day, his dreams will not play again and again not only his fall when he let go of Thor's staff but from what happened when the wounded Asgardian prince fell into Thanos and his evil minion The Other's clutches. Safe from the prying eyes of their goalers, in the permanent shadow of the tall wall, Loki sleeps, just as quietly as the Vanir. But his dreams are not easy.

Firstly once again he falls and sees wondrous things. Things which make no sense. He is in Asgard and Thor is hunting him. Thor is a savvy hunter and his young brother is a bilge snipe or a Troll and whatever takes the fancy of Asgard's first born. Thor hunts and Loki is the danger in the shadows, the monster all fear and the prey Thor always ends up killing, catching, taking as prisoner. Generally gangly Volstagg sighs over them as an indifferent babysitter, Fandral and Hogun act as stewards and fellow hunters to their Lord and Sif nilly-willy (for the boys, not her) follows Thor because she does not see why a girl cannot hunt. I can do it, Thor. Says she. Girls! Thinks Loki who knows better or should than to nay-say to Thor's female pet when Thor is around.

Loki hides and nobody will catch him. Little Loki is quite proud of this feat and Grown up Loki approves. Grown up Loki is also in the shadows of Asgard and once again he is hiding, unseen. Thor must not, cannot have convinced him to play this ridiculous game of hide and seek. He vaguely hears his brother grumbling and carries on sleeping. Not sleeping, he is in the shadows and something is hunting him. Why should he participate to such a childish prank is a mystery until …

- _'Got you! I got you. You did not hear me, right? Got you!'_

Loki looks down at the little boy who has got hold of his leg. Little Loki for once playing the noble part has won over his older self. Loki would smirk at the oddity of this dream if the child was Loki; except he is not. Oh, it is a boy and a raven hair boy with green eyes. Yet the smile is not what Loki remembers and Loki is most certain he never had freckles; as for his nose, it has always been as straight, as chiselled as ice quartz. This nose is repulsively pug-faced. His nose is aquiline. Most certainly not snubbed! His look of horror at the grinning child does not stop said imp from smiling ear to ear.

-_ 'Got you! We are having a wonderful day!... Aren't we?'_

_- 'Yes, we have. You have learnt the spell right. Almost right. The shadow… well …erm … You have done right! Tomorrow, I'll show you how to make it better'._

And Loki, Loki Dreamer watches this LokiDream lift in his arms the little boy and carries him away far from his vantage point of view. Loki. Loki adult has no quarrel and no interest whatsoever with children. Why would he? Who is this child he is carrying? Why is he playing with the brat? This child is important. But if he is, who is he? Could it be a scene of the past reconstructed by his dream as Odin did more than once played as such with his sons when the duties of a king would relent? It must be that because the other answer would be he has just witnessed a scene from his future and the child is… his?

The very idea of becoming, having become a father causes such anxiety, such stress to the sleeper that once again he sees himself falling through the void. Falling into The Other's chamber of torture and this part of the dream is vile. The dreamer groans in his sleep so much that Little One who is awake for some reason tries and soothes his fevered brow by a gentle yet manly caress. The scene becomes unfocused leaving Loki to wonder what sort of pain is worse than pain. Because Thanos company has been very painful, very dreadful. To the point he has almost reached breaking point. To the point Thanos has promised to extract revenge on him if he was to fail. Yet Thanos says something about coming in the dead of the night when least expected. … Dead? …. Of the night? Loki awake has not understood this cryptic message; Loki dreamer makes less sense of it.

This segment of the dream distresses again the sleeper; again the dreamer feels a soothing hand and turns to another part of the dream. This is Vanaheimr… no, the steppes are cold, so cold. This is Jotunheimr and … he watches as a heavily pregnant Jotun tries to hide from other Jotuns who are looking for her. She manages to reach an abandoned temple. An AllMother temple if Loki is not wrong as Loki Dreamer reads the runes sculpted on his walls entrance. The woman … he cannot see her face, he wants to, but he cannot. He knows it is important, vital for him to see her face but her hair, her long very black, very dark hair falls in front of her face and he cannot see her.

There alone, like a beast, she delivers of a little boy, a crying infant and he sees drops appearing on the little Jotun child. Is it raining? Inside a temple? Rain in Jotunheimr? Snow, yes. Gale of ice. Yes. But rain? And he knows the drops are the tears falling from the eyes of the mysterious woman. She holds the baby so close to her chest; she must be saying something to the wailing infant because the new born stops to cry. She put a finger where her lips are hidden like telling him to keep quiet and she leaves. Without the child. The child wiggles in his swaddling clothes or what looks like it. And falls asleep, tired by this big battle he has just won. The battle of Life.

The woman runs away from the temple, as far away as she can from the temple. There is war all over. There is ice and lightening and bolts of thunders coming from the heavens. Thor must be there then. Thor always loves war. He sees now soldiers and troops fighting. Jotuns fighting Aesirs. Where is Thor? He must tell Thor. He does not care about children (What a dream: bilge snipe hunting in Asgard's garden followed by Jotun babies abandoned on a battlefield. Near a battlefield. None the less, even if the child is not technically on the battlefield, his place is by his mother. And his father!). Where is the woman? She should take care of her child.

LokiDreamer scans the panoramic scene where Jotun warriors oppose Asgardian troops until he finally sees again the woman. The woman seems to have managed to get back to her side, her camp. Her fellow Jotuns. She is talking… no…arguing with a much taller Jotun. The king! The King… Laufey? Laufey! Laufey is talking to her and does not like what he hears. More he hears what the woman says less he likes it. LokiDreamer sees how both man and woman shout now at each other. A snow hare which head seems to have appeared out of nowhere watches, disinterested, the scene. The snow hare looks at him though, and winks. Do snow hares wink? And LokiDreamer gasps when he sees Laufey whose right hand has turned into an ice dagger plunges it into the woman's chest and she falls. Loki howls. Loki cries for help. This cannot be; what crime can a woman commit when all she has ever done was to give life to a child as women do? LokiDream runs away from the scene, runs away till he sees Thor. Or rather Thor's back.

- _'Thor, please, brother. Thor, come'_

Thor turns and it is not Thor but Odin. Odin who does not see him but looks through him … through him … looking at the snow hare. Odin runs, leaves the battle scene following the snow hare. Does Father want to hunt? In the middle of of a battle? Reaches to the scene where the woman has fallen. Loki sees just that. Just his father's back and hears his father sighs. The snow hare is still there. This impudent animal seems now interested by the tragedy… seems now different. The hare has a small weaselly … humane face and the man-hare must say something important. Odin runs again, taking the direction … of the temple. It is so cold in Jotunheimr. How long can a very small boy survive without his mother in this freezing climate? Odin enters the temple, bends over and picks up the infant. The little Jotun is surprised. But all infants are surprised. Surprised because everything is new, really new to them. The Jotun is surprised; more so, as now a little Aesir infant appears inside Odin's arms. LokiDreamer realizes he has just seen what happened a long time ago in Jotunheimr. But it is not this which wakes him up. What wakes him up is seeing his father crying! Crying? That and the rain falling over the infant he is… was… is…

He is awake now. Eyes closed, he feels a wet cloth rubbing his cheeks. Little One seems intent to smother him with a very wet cloth while whispering….

- _(Wake up. Hush.) We have won some company. (Your fever seems to have broken. I am sorry to have used more water than anticipated. But this fever was running so high, all I could find to break it was dampening this cloth. You must have thought you were in some bath chambers)_

- _' Ah…(ah! I was dreaming. It … it was… it has been a long time since I have dreamt. Before you ask, it was odd. Odd and personal).'_

- _'Maybe the AllMother has taken mercy on us. (You are not going to like it)'_

No, he does not like it. He did not like falling, he did not like Thanos. He did not like Midgard and Asgard dungeon. He does not like being wounded and feeling weak as a half-breed Jotun. And certainly he does not like at all what he hears.

- _' Eh, you. I speak to thee. I have recognized you, Vanir thief! What have you done with my father's horse? What mischief are you brewing? Where is my brother?'_


	10. Chapter 10

- _'Thor has found him, My Liege._'

Thor had managed in time to smash the Compass. Malekith cannot, will not use it to send more troops to ravage the Realm Eternal.

_- 'What says Lord Njord? Asgard could do with some Vanir help.'_

_- 'The Great Khan of the Vanirs has his own troubles. It seems that our heirs have a curiously similar tendency to be at loggerheads with their sires.'_

_- Nothing good will brew from that, My Lord.'_

_- 'Not all the chess pieces are in place, Heimdall. I still have a knight to play. And a joker!'_

Thor disarmed, because Mjolnir cannot hear him, and his faithful friends after being jeered at and copiously insulted by the Dark Elves have been led to Malekith' foul-smelling prisons. As they are entering their cell, they notice a bigger, wider one and Fandral cannot help but whining as why five of them should be allocated such a small cubicle and only two blankets when another prisoner, a sleeping red-head from what he can see enjoys such salubrious and well-aired quarters.

- _'Dat cos you lot are prisoners to me Lord Malekith. These Vanirs are prisoners but maybe if their old fool of a king Njord is still having his marbles about, they will become our allies. That's why, Asgardians! They can hope for an upgrade. And you, you can't.'_

The troll who is their gaoler cackles as he locks the door and is about to leave when the Vanir who has been pulled out of his sleep by the noise stands up and calls him.

- _'Please, could we get some more water? Just water. No bread. We do not want to presume on your generosity. My…brother, my brother has not stopped groaning. I fear he is running a bad fever. Some fresh water would be most helpful. Please!'_

Fandral wonders where he has heard this voice. Sif, meanwhile with Hogun has observed what the weakness points of the cell are. Volstagg bemoans at the bread edibility.

Not that it ever was edible. I wonder how can food rot more than that…

If ever Lord Malekith would care for his opinion, the Troll would say that as it stands himself is quite hungry and could do with some choicest Asgardian meat! Malekith does not interact with coarse underlings. Still his orders are clear. Trolls obey. If they obey well, they are rewarded.

He brings back some water. Fresh from the well. Fresh in some way. He has spit in it. His master has said nothing against spitting. Just before setting the refilled jug through the bars.

-_ 'Lucky you!'_

Says the grimmer of the Warrior Three.

- _'This Troll will pay for his antics!'_

Replies Sif.

As for Thor… The Thunderer rages inwardly at having failed Asgard, failed his father. He has failed regarding Jane who believes him to be strong and intelligent. Intelligence is Loki's domain. Strength is Thor's and falling into Malekith's trap has not been his smartest move.

The warriors Three share their communal blanket. Thor leaves his to Sif who refuses but she feels coerced to accept as Hogun and his friends refuse to use it and Thor says his cape will suffice. Hence the blanket sits by its own, unused. Sif can sleep without blanket, like the true soldier she is!

_(If Loki had been there, he would have found a way to make us of two blankets for six persons. Loki would have guessed, would have seen to it. But Loki is safe, out of Asgard. Come to think of it, Loki is safe. Wherever he is, he is safe. There is still hope, isn't it? Loki is safe. Happy? … Maybe not. Yet safe from Malekith certainly.)_

Another reason not to despair is that Thor knows his mother is somewhere in this compound. With Lord Balder. Balder…

He plays and plays again in his mind the scene where his father has revealed to him the identity of the 'friend' Frigga has been visiting since… since ages! He still cannot believe it. His mother had been sent away, on some mission or another to meet with some princeling, regularly renewed the bounds of friendship. So he thought. Queen Frigga does often travel to meet other ladies of her husband's realm unless it is some other queens from other realms. What do these ladies do aside drinking tea, weaving and embroidering is everybody's guess! Thor knows they must do engage in some sort of sports because he has heard the Queen to mention some progress in horse-riding. They hunt apparently. What? Turtledoves? Peacocks? They dance and take notes of their improvements to elegant deportment. They discuss tutors and training skills. They discuss children progress. And Thor who vaguely listened to his parents asides, blames himself for not having paid more attention.

All in all, for years, Thor has considered his mother's life as quite … boring. But it was his mother's life and if she felt she needed to go at each Yule at some secret secluded place to worship and participate to some obscure festival, Thor considered it was her absolute right. Every year, laden with toys, she would leave 'her grown men' and return a few days later. Every year, Odin would ask if 'all was fine' , followed by 'I envy you' and every year she would reply 'all grows well'. And now, Thor wonders why he has been so blind, so deaf. Father, when interrogated would reply men are not privy to some prerogatives regarding the AllMother.

Thor did think drink tea and listening at dismal poets were hardly things to be missed. Now he knows; now he will make sure the poets are real and not make-believe excuses. Loki, on the other hand was always suspicious. Always wondering why! Always curious, inquisitive, never satisfied. _(There is something, Brother. Father looked at me in a weird way. I am sure there is something big they are hiding from us. From me, at the very least)._

Loki does not know he has a brother. Loki does not know the onus of being the youngest one has now fallen on somebody else's shoulders. Somebody else will be at the butt end of jokes and conspiratorial smiles.

-_ 'Brother, where art thou? Brothers, where art thee?'_

Thor had one brother; then none. Then one again, though another. Then none again. This must stop! Thor has no patience for this losing game. Thor wants what is his; he wants his brothers back. Both of them. Woe to whom has dared to separate what should have never been disunited! Woe to he who had unknotted what was woven as One!

Malekith! Malekith! Outside, the thunder rumbles as his master's mood. Malekith rebellion was bad enough when through treachery or sorcery, he has not only kidnapped the Queen but Odin's youngest.

- _'Balder is the hands of the Accursed. My son! My youngest born!'_

_- 'Lord Balder, the old man Mother visits at each Yule is … is but a child? … And my… my brother? Loki's and mine? Our brother?'_

Somehow Frigga and Odin have hidden from their two sons when said young sparks were still in need to be accompanied while hunting that the Queen had been safely delivered of a third son. The Norns having informed the royal parents their new born son would be in danger of death if he was to meet his siblings, the baby had been raised far from Asgard; far from his mother and father. Regularly, the Queen would find a reason for her absences while Odin would also visit whenever possible. Never together as to foil any suspicion.

_- 'Why? Why Father? Do you really believe Loki and me to be so jealous of a baby we would have killed him? Why these years of lies?'_

_- 'No, Thor. Not you Thor. Not you'_

And it hurts Thor to suspect Odin feared that Loki's insane uncontrollable jealousy … already at that time…

The Warriors Three sleep, Volstagg snores. Heavily. Sif sleeps gently. In the other cell, a small Vanir tends to his wounded brother. He vaguely hears some moaning following by soothing Vanir words. Somehow he finds solace that here at least two brothers are together, fighting adversity. It is not that he approves of Vanirs. _(Hypocrites. … Men….No. Gods!)._ Still, it is nice to see that Vanirs just like Asgardians have human feelings and keep their brothers' backs.

Thor returns to his reverie. He has a brother, a younger brother. Much younger than Loki. If he is happy to know he is not alone, not anymore alone; he still misses Loki. To have Balder by his side is nice; to have Loki and Balder is better, much better. To have the three brothers together would be the best thing ever to have happened to him. And his thoughts bring him back to Loki's mysterious disappearance. Loki has managed to secure _(how?)_ some complicity _(with whom?)_ as to escape with a Vanir on their father's favourite mount. _(that's whom and how sorted!)._ Some finer details will need more explanations. The facts are as follow: Loki with the help of a mysterious Vanir _(what did he look like? I did see him on Sleipnir's back)_ has managed to drug with a breathing spell all Asgard but for Heimdall who was too far to do anything as he was standing on the Bifrost. But for the Queen far away, travelling to visit Balder.

Next thing, last thing Thor knows as something happens: Sleipnir jumps into what looks like a rainbow portal of some sort and then … nothing. Gone the Vanir and his stolen eight-legged horse; gone Loki. Gone his mother and little Balder.

_- 'Where are thou, brother? I miss you, Asgard misses you. Brother, we all miss you… We all mourned you. All of us.'_

Slowly, the night leaves like an inopportune guest. Slowly, shadows shrink. Slowly, shadows take shapes and forms. Shadows become colours. And forms and shapes become recognizable. Definable. Named.

Thor may not be as bright as Loki but blind he is not. He has already taken notice of the copper, wildfire-like curls of his cell's neighbour. Now, he looks at the clothes, the finer details like the large ear bangles and he wonders where he has seen them last. Because just like Loki, he has an excellent memory.

The Vanir would like to shrink more, to be smaller. To become invisible. He would like to but cannot. Not that he cannot shape shift. He can. But it means that selfishly he would abandon the Jotun. He would abandon Loki and this, he cannot. It would be despicable; it would be cowardly. Grandfather would say it would be lacking of elegance. AllMother would disapprove. AllMother who knows all his secrets would be ashamed. Bringing back Sleipnir to Vanaheimr would never bring his honour that; fearing that as the dawn brings the revelation of Truth.

The Vanir who tends to his wounded companion remembers his younger self trailing beside his Grand Father while the slightly younger yet older man explained the Vanir Pantheon.

_(- 'Truth is essential to Vanirs, Little One.'_

_- 'Yes, Grand Father, Truth is Life and… and without Truth, there is no Life possible. Because Truth is Order and … and Order gives Life … erm Chaos is Disorder and there is no life with disorder … and…'_

_- 'Chaos by Nature is instable, volatile but rich in futures, in possibilities. Chaos has potentials. Do not forget this, Little One. Chaos is rich in potential futures but He cannot concentrate, He cannot make sense of all these potentials, these possibilities. All the tomorrows look the same to Him because of his Madness. Thus Truth via Order can regulate Chaos, can show Him what is Right from Wrong, what can be, what must not be! Chaos needs Truth. It is vital for Him.'_

_- 'Chaos meets Order and Truth corrects … I am confused, Grand Father!'_

_- 'All in its good time, Little One. Your lessons are over today. What do you think we … ride together?')_

_(- 'Life only happens when Chaos is regulated by Order. Chaos gives his limitless Energy while Order gives herself to Chaos and Life is born. Because Order without Chaos is sterile, but Order with Truth however unpleasant it may be, can give Life through Chaos.'_

_- 'Does Chaos love Truth? Like AllFather, our AllFather (Not the Asgardian One!) loves AllMother?'_

_- 'He Does and He is a real God. Not a deluded man who thinks he is a God because he can live a very long life')_

Relived through the fog of time past happy memories give a feel-good mood to Little One; give the strength to face the coming ordeal.

Day breaks; all becomes sharper. All becomes more defined.

Thor can see and he sees clear. More. A lot more.

Clear. Too much clear, knows the Vanir.

In the shadow, a sleeping wounded man groans in pain. The constant kind hand which has refreshed his brow, has succeeded in breaking the fever; the glamour is stabilized. Loki now waking up knows it; just like he knows he still cannot, will not revert to the Aesir form he despises. Son of Laufey he is and remains. A Frost Giant however small. Still half asleep, he hears voices.

Voices he knows. Deep and sonorous; like a thunder prowls over the plains. And he groans more. Because his side hurts. Because he is mercifully more guessed than seen in the friendly shadow. Because he knows who the voice belongs too. Mostly because he cannot show his skin markings anymore. When will he learn who his father is?

- _'I know you! Show your face to the Prince… the Eldest Prince of Asgard!'_


	11. Chapter 11

The Vanir's futile delaying tactics backfire as now the Warriors Three are also awake and look at him with interest. He would like to be much shorter; short than becoming invisible there is nothing he can do against the interested gaze of the five Asgardians.

- _'What do you want of me? I can share some water but the bread is rubbish. We have not touched it.'_

_- 'I bet you did not touch either the mead though you pretended to be drunk some certain night, not long ago in Asgard.'_

Fandral, the next best thing besides his brother; Fandral recognizing the voice and the clothes cannot resist taunting the other prisoner.

_- 'You bet? Again? Methinks somebody likes to lose'_

Volstagg laughs at the retort, a curiously high-pitched laugh for such a mountain of a man. Fandral is all indignation. Hogun whistles, quite impressed. By whom, still remains to be seen. Sif would like to put her hand on the youth.

Only Thor is unperturbed. Odin has taught his sons well. (_Whatever happens when danger is strife, remain aloof to ride the storm. A cool head is wiser than an excitable one. And less prone to take the wrong decision)._

- _'I know thee. I will ask three things of you. In order of importance. And you will answer promptly. Why are you here in Svartalfaheimr? Where is my father's horse? And finally: where is my brother? What have you done to my brother? WHERE IS LOKI!'_

If this scene was set outside, by now Thunder accompanied rain would be rolling and Lightening would be about to strike the lonely diminutive Vanir. This is what Loki thinks. But Loki is wrong and Loki is glad to be wrong. Because Little One stands his ground, stands to the Thunderer and replies by a single question.

- 'Where is Mjolnir, son of Odin?'

It takes all sorts of men to show what true courage can be. It takes fools to walk into a lion's den. Is the Vanir youth a fool to provoke Thor or is it the quiet arrogance of those born to rule? Since the lad is most probably the grandson of a horse herder, folly is more likely to be … but this is immediately denied by his mien.

For now Thor roars like a wounded lion. Fools presented by the result of their madness try to cover their tracks, try to hide. Attempt to be forgotten. The Vanir insists.

- _'Where is your twin, O Hammer wielder? I see but a disreputable handful of would be warriors. Warriors? Should I say mists of make-believe?_

A barrel full of empty threats; he means Volstagg. A harridan; Sif eyes turn into daggers. A cousin who confuses silence for lack of wit and Hogun pulls a grimace. A would-be lover of grand ladies who prefers their coachmen; Fandral, he of the easy replies remains speechless. Accompanied by a never-crowned king unable to keep his own brother as his side.

All wannabes who would like to be but will fail to become.

The Warriors Three are now all awake, rage eating their hearts. If they could, they would tear the Vanir apart like the true tigers they are.

Have no hope to find mercy from seemingly sleepy Volstagg for his axe will slice you again and again before you have time to realize. Fandral dances the deadliest of ballet with his sword while Hogun bludgeon will make sure the most loving of mothers will not be able to recognize what is left from the kiss of his mace. As for Sif, she is beauty and Death herself. All of them want to taste the Vanir's blood. All of them try with their arms slid between the bars to grasp and pull the youth. They all want to hear what he will no doubt squirm begging for dear life. His miserable unworthy life.

They stop. Like a pack of hound dogs which stand still when their master speaks, they stop. And, turning their heads, listen to their master in a perfect unison.

_- ''Tis true… Alas, I am not king. What is a warrior without his armour and favourite weapons?'_

_- 'Then, I'll bow to thee. Noble albeit unfortunate prince. It is a dark day indeed, when it sees an Odinsson reduced to the company of gaolers as courtiers and rats as servants.'_

_- 'I have no use of your insults nor of your protestations of friendship. I have no time for empty words. Help me for regain power on Mighty Mjolnir. The Accursed has put a spell on my loyal servant. Help me free Mjolnir from this despicable enchantment and I will trust you and not before.'_

Kings cannot reign without sceptre. Thor is king; the hammer is proof of it. Denied of the symbol, Thor feels he is nothing.

-_ 'My King, my people are not, I will... we will never be Malekith's deluded auxiliaries. We almost won against Odin and we should choose this … this woefully pitiful, almost comical villain. We, Vanirs, will never be slaves. Rather be subordinate to Asgard!'_

And Little One spits on the floor. Like a snake spits his venom. It will not please the Dark Elves. It is not the pledge of alliance they were hoping for, though why should they pay attention to a young horse herder, would be a mystery. Count on Vanirs not to give a plain answer. Yet from now on, the six, sorry seven prisoners, if the wounded man survives have but one purpose. Malekith has made himself powerful enemies. It would be laughable as all are his prisoners; it is extremely dangerous.

These five men and woman are the best known warriors of Asgard now allied to a true shape shifter and his ailing sibling. The Vanirs are known for being blessed by the AllMother magic; a small sorcerer is not to be disdained when one plans to battle the Lord of Svartalfaheimr! Quite likely as Thor has witnessed, the youth may be more than what he looks. To plan such fantastic daring act as to free Loki implies great wizardry. This line of thoughts leads the Prince to remember how Sleipnir and its two human charges left his father's dungeon. And his three questions.

-_ 'What led you to Malekith?'_

_- 'An accident. I originally staged a … a way to prove my parent, my guardian he had good reasons to trust in my worth. I pulled the reins too tight and here we are. A faulty landing. Could have been worse. Eh, with the Fire Jotuns!'_

_- 'Where is Sleipnir?'_

_- 'Prisoner like his master. Presumably in a better stable than this cell.'_

_- 'Where is my brother?'_

The Vanir would reply he does not know where Thor's brother is. He only knows Loki the Jotun and this Loki is absolutely, biologically Jotun. This Loki's nature is Jotun, sprinkled with Vanir spice. Who knows the rest? Which is not what Silver-Tongue is. Loki of Asgard is … from Asgard. His raven locks are the give-away of a very distant Vanir ancestor. For the rest his height, his fairness verging to pallor claim him as pure as Thor's fine Asgardian own. And this Loki has a vicious tongue, a poisonous mind. Maybe Loki Odinsson is on Svartalfaheimr and Little One shudders. Little One is but the young grandchild of a horse herder and aristocratic mischief-makers do not regard highly his likes.

Thor wants to ask more but the man in the shadow has a higher claim; he sees the little wizard kneeling by the other man he cannot see but guess and hears whispers. And he envies the two brothers.

- _'Well played, Little One. The Warriors Three will not forget you bested them…'_

_- 'I just said what futures may be rolled by the Dices of Destiny. It is up to them to ask for another throw.'_

_- 'Be careful. My br… bright prince, my foster father' prince is not always an oaf. We need to know what happened exactly to Mjolnir. Play for time, use subtlety. Get willingly given answers._

Little One apologizes for the Troll's discourtesy; Loki dismisses generously his dry nurse. Not so long ago, on a forsaken rock, he has known worse, a lot worse. He drinks the spoiled water and thanks his new-found brother. Naïve little brother. A child who clearly needs his guidance. A child who needs most importantly his protection. A child who reminds him of a long time ago when a child believed that nothing was better than tagging along his bigger, wiser, not so older brother and this is something he wants to forget about, to pull out of his memories. Memories which burn and leave scars. Memories which should be erased because nothing as good to feel, as generous to come will ever exist again. He groans and it is not from pain.

_- 'You should rest more, brother. I will pray again AllMother to bless you'._

And he whispers more in Vanir.

- _'I will give you some of my … energy. Do not worry. It is but a few drops. Once home, I shall replenish through a swim in the Falls where AllMother's heart beats. … And it will make you strong. These Asgardians are a nuisance. We cannot risk another tear in your glamour!_

Something flashes in the shadow of the wall. Something attracts more attention from the five pairs of eyes who are watching like eagles flying high in AllFather' domain, watch rodents crawling on the ground…

-_ 'What sorcery are you doing, brat?_

Fandral loves the sound of his voice; he cannot stop himself from enquiring.

-_ 'Healing magic. My brother needs it badly'._

_- 'All in the name of the father of trees and the mother who tries to wear the breeches in his hall!'_

The Warriors Three laugh while Sif smiles. Thor remains silent though it hurts him to see his Father so openly rejected. Scorned. Little One shrugs his shoulders in quiet acceptance. If Asgard wants to remain blind, so be it. A true believer will stand for his Faith, says his grandfather and it shames him he is failing his people. He is failing mostly the Divine Duo. He just prayed the Sacred AllMother and he has just about apostatized her by his absence of reply. There is only one way to atone. He must proclaim their fearsome might and eternal struggle. And the Vanir begins to explain to bewildered and outraged Asgardians why his people will never wholly accept Odin's just rule.

A long time ago, there was nothing. Nothing at all. No life, no death. All was silence and immobility. Thus Chaos was born. Chaos was like a Great Spirit floating above the unknown, like mist floats above a great lake. The unknown is all our futures, all our potentials. Endless possibilities and all this maybe was driving him mad.

-_ 'When we say he, it could be she.' _

Chaos is the first child from the Divine Parents. The AllFather, master of all the heavens mates with his Sacred Consort the AllMother and Chaos is just the moment of uncertainty when the divine seed is expulsed and reaches the fertile soil. Will it fecund AllMother? Will she be barren? This anything goes, this great fear is Chaos. A God driven by Fear but also such Power as he holds the key to all our futures.

Chaos is mad because he knows too much. Hence, he needs his sister unless it is his brother Order. Order does not know all the tomorrows; yet his power is terrible. He or she tells to Chaos what can be and what cannot be. Order without Chaos would be sterile, would stifle Life. Chaos without Order would have nothing done. It is a good thing that Chaos and Order are lovers. The gentler one is Order whilst the fiercer is Chaos.

-_ 'If you are trying to indoctrinate us, I remind you it is easier after a feast with tables laden with sumptuous courses and refined wines.'_

_- 'The Vanir profits we cannot teach him that Asgard has no time to waste for heretical beliefs.'_

Hogun approves wordlessly his two companions' frank opinion. Sif is speechless by having to tolerate, by having to be exposed to such shameless heterodoxy. Thor listens. His tutors, his friends; everybody mocks the Vanir, mimicking how they move their hands as they describe their Gods. Thor listens because Little One does not pretend to convert him. Thor listens because today he can hear what the Vanirs are really about without the gross deforming interface of a people who has won a war against another.

Chaos and Order are the avatars of AllFather and AllMother. Following Order, finally come the Divine Twins: Life and Death. Life always is Death's elder. For Life always precedes Death. When the time comes for Chaos to mate with Order, Death wants to be chosen and dresses herself as a bride or a groom…

Now the Three Warriors shake their heads in disbelief and Thor is at a loss to understand why a God would marry his sister who happens to be his mother because he is also his own father. Little One explains these are Gods. Real Gods. Not men pretending to be Gods because they are so advanced in science and blessed by such long lives … that unlucky people like the animals who rule these days the Midgardian Realm with their minute lifespan believe them to be Gods. There is only one AllFather and he does not sit on a golden throne, he does not pretend to be the Thunder. Why not all yourself the God of Bows or the Divine Horseman!

This time, the Vanir knows he is pulling the wrong cords as the five Asgardians look to be incensed by this surfeit of absurdity. Little One carries on; he can survive jibes. Order gives to Chaos the Divine twins Life and Death. Death at the same time wants to be Chaos consort. But Chaos only sees Order. Death decides to threaten Order. Life thus decides to distract her sister or brother by a game of … tafl or chess or … probably a version of said game especially designed for Gods.

And this is how it begins. Life distracts Death and they never cease playing while AllFather and Chaos mate and impregnate their consorts Order and AllMother. All comes from this divine endogamy. All the realms, Aesirs, Vanirs, Midgardians, the Trees…

Thor has had enough. Yes, Trees. Because the World Tree is not enough for Vanaheimr but they have to invent more trees. While they are at it, why not a forest? He shakes his head in disbelief when he realizes the Vanir very seriously approves of this lame jest.

- 'Now we know why Vanir Go… Men and their women... sorry... have such a reputation with Fertility. Their Gods spend their time fucking each other. Their Valhalla must be a brothel! A whore house combined with a nursery!'

Though coarse, this cheap shot at the Gods Vanirs worship angers Little One who wants to reply. But cannot. A hand slender, true,yet fearsomely strong has gripped the youth's wrist. Unlike the others, the lad can see through the darkness which is housing Loki. He can see Loki order him not to answer back.

The Jotun is right. Stupid Asgardians. They are unworthy of AllMother 'gifts. Little One calms down and smiles back at Loki. Like a young brother proud to show to his sibling that he can do it too. Like a shared secret. Two brothers, united. It hurts Loki to remember this trust; this bond is destroyed as far as Asgard is concerned. Yet this unexpected gift of a Vanir would-be brother is pulling him back from the dead, from the pain and despair he has suffered from for way too long. Little One wanted to heal him. It is healing him, indeed. Body and soul. The madness is going. Is leaving. And the constant to-ings and fro-ings of his mind, turning into circles are receding. The drain of the pool of his insanity has been pulled. And he sighs of relief… Good Vanir, good child. Good friend.

And he looks back at the Vanir with approving eyes.

Wondering what is the Vanir's secret. Because there is a secret. A real one besides the obvious crying out loud secret of who Little One is. A unique grandson, raised by his Grand Father. Allowed to ride the Royal Vanir Spider Horse. A child with the burden of a 'people'. A youth entering the age of adulthood; just like recently a young prince whose first actions have marked him as a rebel against Asgard. Did you feel you had to prove your mettle under the very nose of the Einherjars and tickle AllFather's beard by a childish prank. Who do you think you are, young man? Proving you can outwit the enemy of your people even if by nature you are … a runt?

Njord must be frantic, looking all over for his grandson. Bringing him back sound and safe will be a master coup. Vanaheimr can but welcome and reward most generously the friend who saved the Heir of the Vanirs. After that, he will thank his young friend and obtain enough dark energy to build…? Another casket of winters? Or a tesseract!

A good deed never goes unpunished. This good deed certainly will not get punished. Loki would like to laugh but does not dare because Thor is not deaf and would recognize him.

Once his hand on the dark energy, he will go back to Midgard. And this time, he will be King. After that, he is certain that he will convince his protégé to attack Asgard. Together they will win. Two Realms against one. Asgard rightfully his, he will pulverize Jotunheimr. Annihilate it as to clean up his own ledger. The monster must disappear… Must… Not.

Must not because Little One has a friend. A Jotun and Loki of Asgard is friendless. Loki of Asgard must win the friendship of Njord's grandson. A youth actually in a cell; who is kneeling near him as to proffer some vile tasting water. A youth called Little One.


	12. Chapter 12

If Malekith had guessed his prison contains not one, but three princes he would be here now, boasting of his supreme plan which varies depending on sheer luck, a total disregard for the management of loose ends and a denial of responsibility. Malekith does not know; they are spared so far on his grandiloquence and Loki wonders if the Elf' verbosity is not an indirect homage to his own tendency to exaggerate. He lacks the quality of simplicity. It does not mean he does not crave for it. Why cannot things be simple; why can't his life be simple?

Thor, for all his boorishness, fares much better than him. His sharp intelligence has not protected him from the sharper angles of the reality-checks. His born gift for words which he has inherited from… from this unknown sire has not saved him from the humiliation of suffering to hear the last word going to the Green Beast. The trickster has been tricked and Silver-Tongue has been muzzled like one muzzles a barking dog. The shame causes him to dig his nails on the stones.

-_ 'I speak too much. I apologize.'_

Loki looks up at the naïve youth. Boy, you are as far from your realm as Loki is who is not. Innocent unlike you child. You should be home by your old man, surrounded by kind tutors and doting servants. You'll be all too soon an adult. All too soon, you'll end up shackled to a wife who may not care for you. Worse: a wife you do not care for. Then, you'll end up like …

The door of the hall leading to the cells flings open violently. The Troll now armed with a whip, shouts at the top of his lungs.

All must bow to this glorious announcement: our Most Excellent Lord Malekith and his General the Very Noble Kurse will visit you, vermin, in a few instants.

The bars of both cells are whipped for good show. The troll want to prove how good he is at serving his Lord while at the same time treating as harshly as he dares the poor sods who fall into his hands. The lucky ones; as worthless smaller fry ends up in his stomach.

- ._''When His Highness enters the gaol, I want to see only one back. You are all to kneel, all to be bowing to his Magnificence'_

The prisoners remain silent. It bodes well for the troll; the whole lot of them must be terrified. Or better trying to work their way with the Superlative, the Awesome Master of Svartalfaheimr. As soon as the troll has closed the door behind him, an enormous laugh shakes the walls of the cells.

_- 'Volstagg, you must find a way to lose weight in five minutes. No thirty seconds. Shave your beard, grow boobs and charm Malekith. Once his lover and at the condition you do not drink or eat at all, you will free us.'_

_- 'And, I'll be your handmaid. Such a pretty face needs a duena to protect her honour.'_

_- 'It will never go. He'll still be too tall and his feet will never get into dainty dance-slippers.'_

_- 'My virtue will stay intact. Not so sure about Malekith. Maybe I should accept Kurse's hand.'_

The Warriors Three, far from kneeling are engaged in an absurdly funny ballet where Volstagg pretends to be a girl wooed by the two evil Dark Elves and simpers while playing at being coy…

Volstagg plays with his helmet as a modest maid would use a fan to save her blushes; it is quite a surprise to witness how such a large man can mince about, mimicking graces and delicate proffered hands. Sif giggles while arranging 'her ladyship' hair. Hogun the Grim sees no harm in a mock fight as whom of Fandral or he will be the favourite Cicisbeo. Thor wipes his eyes as the pretend romance is hilarious!

-_ 'I'd say this maid deserves better than Malekith. Will she have me?_

_- 'Hear! Hear! Barely a second out of the eyes of her lover, and Volstagg is already cuckolding him. Have you no shame, man… err, maid? Look at him…her. She is a heart breaker. Only a prince of the realm will do for her as Thor has now entered the ranks of your followers… Yet!'_

_- 'I will not. A prince has his dignity. … But I will bow to her enchanting beauty and her manifold charms. Methinks she has me already captive!'_

Volstagg flutters his eyelids, pouts and everybody laughs. Including Little One!

If only . If only he could laugh… like the others? Loki would like to go back in time, to go in reverse. Never to spoil Thor's coronation. Never to go back to Jotunheimr… If only he could again resume his ignorance, his innocence and laugh like Thor. When things were simple; and Loki could transform Volstagg's armour into a bride's dress, Sif into a bridesmaid, dress Fandral and Hogun as two ridiculous would be swains and have Thor and him laughing to stitches at the incongruous scene.

Thor sees that the man who is lying down is sitting better. And it reminds him of the duties of a prince aside whispering sweet nothings to fait maidens at Odin's court.

-_ 'You better help your brother standing up. The troll will choose and trash him as to avenge from our … coming meeting with his master. I fear we might upset his plans.'_

Little One swallows hard; not that he is angry at Thor from being told off but because Loki needs help. The glamour could fade again and … and what a small half-breed Jotun and wounded at that could do to prevent a Troll from killing him? Trolls hate half-breeds with a passion.

-_ 'Coming, brother!_

In a way, Loki is not unhappy of the surprising visit. As the day grows and spreads into the cells, the wall shadow has been shrinking. All too soon, Thor is going to realize his brother is very close. Much closer than Loki would like. Mercifully, his clothes which are little better than torn and even shreds have benefited from the Vanir's ministrations. He is now all leather. And feathers. With beads, His linen shirt is bloodied and his long straight hair is red. His stubble has not changed. His wrists are adorned with painted tattoos. The elegant personable second prince looks now redoubtably native down to … a silly pair of long thin ear bangles and some matching arm bracelets!

Fat… Odin would comment he was not aware to be holding a fancy dress ball tonight. His mother… the Quee … Mother, yes, Mother would raise one eyebrow while putting on a complicit smile and Thor would state that no way he, Odin's first born would be induced to wear a stupid costume.

These days are gone, never to return. What is now his life is... listening to a Vanit conversation:

_- 'How are you faring, my bl… my brother? For we are brothers, aren't we? You saved my life. As brothers should. I owe you loyalty, trust and friendship for now on till never end.'_

_- 'You know nothing of me. I am a Jotun, a half-breed. Maybe I am worse. A true and true villain. A monster... the mother of monsters! For he who brings monsters on innocents justifies this name. Nothing you know nothing of me, yet …'_

_- '…Yet brother I call you. And I'll be a poor brother if I did not stand by you. I do not know what led you to Odin's dungeon. I know the man who left it with me and this man is worthy of my fraternity.'_

While the two Vanirs carry on their exchange, closed to the other inmates, Thor's mind does not stop churning about his brother's whereabouts. If Loki is not where the Vanir, where is he? Because it was Loki who was riding behind Little One, because if the Vanir youth does not lie, Loki must be somewhere in the shadows and Thor who is not an oaf, tries and scans the receding shadow where the wounded older Vanir brother is. Thor may not be as smart as Loki, may not be as brilliant as the Trickster, an entire childhood spent at the contact of a mischief-maker has taught him more than a thing or two!

As he is ready to call out the unseen man to come out of the darkness, as he is ready to call a name and prays it is the voice he wants to hear and not another one who answers back, the thick tall door of the prison opens and Dark Elves Guards enter the gaol.

Guards plummeted and glittering, buffoons and courtiers and all bow to the lean man who now comes in. If one had the temerity to ask Malekith why he chooses such dark dark clothing, he would lie and replies real power does not need bling to be. Just like Njord only wears a single Great Eagle feather and one thick gold circlet as a crown. Just like Odin's eye patch is simplicity itself. The Asgardian AllFather is all gold, true. But it never hurts, it is muted. Understated. In his warrior realm, Odin does not boast of his might. Thus Malekith is condemned to obliged, contrived modesty.

But he struts about and the colourfulness of his court is as muted as an array of peacocks. Kurse who follows him is of a more subdued nature. The Elf known in the past as Algrim is Malekith's faithful general. A fidelity Malekith does not deserve. Unlike the Dark Lord, Kurse cares for his men. He cares for his realm; he does not want power for power. Ruling is playing about and discarding toys who now fail to interest. If Elves are to rule over Asgard, Kurse reserves his hates to its leaders, not his people. He knows the cost of blood, because he has spilled it more than once and does not want to spill more if it without a reasonable purpose. Odin and Njord, if they had their say on the politics of Svartalfaheimr would say Malekith plays at being a king. Odin like Njord would say Kurse has the heart of a king. Misguided maybe, but a kingly heart none the less. His dress is not dark like Malekith. His is a simple uniform with a gold sash. Yet, despite the gold, his cloth is truly simple. For Malekith still looks overdressed. Real power against one lacking of conviction…

Loki now understands what the man from S.H.I.E.L.D. meant. And grimaces at all the blood he has bathed in to understand something as simple as this. Winces at all the madness which had engulfed him. Why, by the Nine Realms? Why has he wrought such misery on innocent bystanders when the person responsible has always been Odin? Is only Odin and Odin only?

And it is the troll, the misshaped smelly ruffian who closes the door after pushing inside, a head of him two miserable and likely terrified shadows.

The woman would fall if a friendly arm proffered through bars did not stop her. The woman acknowledges her helper by a regal smile. However dirtied Frigga is a queen, is the Queen and queens smile and approve of noble knights. Frigga has no doubt the troll had planned her falling like a stumbling victim offered to the edification and mirth of the Lord of the Dark Elves. This child, this young Vanir by the looks of him has deprived him of his victory. She does not doubt the child is in for a later trashing. As Odin's queen, she knows of the courage it takes to deny elves and trolls from her humiliation. And she is proud it is one of her old realm's countrymen who is her knight of honour.

The other and smaller shadow reveals him as a youth. A real youth. Verging to adolescence, still with puppy fat cheeks free from any beard. A youth who takes after his mother. Shorter than Little One. Yet with a terrifying pair of blue eyes he has inherited from his sire. The child thanks the older child in stiff words to have prevented his mother from a fall and holding the Lady Frigga's hand he bows to her in the manner born of an Asgardian Prince.

Thor knows without knowing. Understands without wishing to know the why's and the how's. Thor is satisfied by the who's. And satisfied the child has his heart in the right place. How could this not be as both were born from the same loins? Thor may have lost Loki and mourns him. Thor loves also Balder and will tell him of their common grief when they are together and this adventure is over.

Both brothers, the eldest and the youngest discover each other. Malekith has crowed in front of them of his successful catch. Loki is missing though. As the deviant son has gone on a killing spree on Midgard and since brought back to Asgard and unheard of since, Malekith supposes him culled. And unworthy of wasting time on the whereabouts of a dead loose cannon.

Frigga says nothing. She stands erect, immobile. Looking at Thor and conveying him all her love. Little Balder says nothing. His eyes devour his big brother and the cell. He sees the Warrior Three and the Lady Sif. And each and every Asgardian has his and her blood boiling at listening at Malekith's unctuous sneers about the Realm Eternal.

_- 'My, my. I love family reunions.'_

But Asgard denies him of surprised interjections. Disarmed they may be, but the Warriors Three and Sif bows to the Queen have more deportment than Malekith's colourful courtiers and there is more nobility in Thor' simple head bow to his mother than all his prances. As for Balder, his stand receives the appreciative greet of Kurse. All in all, not exactly the big demonstration of success the Dark Elf wanted to see.

- _'Tell Thor your goodbyes. Tomorrow, he shall die.'_

A gasp escapes Little One and draws attention to him.

- _'Ah, the Vanir shepherds and the Spider Horse. You will show me how it works or my troll will be served your brother in mint sauce. By the way, I thought only Njord's kin could ride these horses.'_

_- 'We meet on the family tree. I am but a stable lad. A… a joking jockey. Of sort.'_

-_ 'Yes. Well the joker better shares with me his secret or the joke will be on you!'_

This cannot be. Nobody, not even Malekith deserves to be served to Trolls. Thor speaks as guards lead away Frigga and Balder who have not uttered one word since their dramatic entrance on the stage of this prison. Frigga and Balder have not spoken but their eyes have spoken volumes. Pride and love for their sons and brothers. Love does not need words. Love is thus Thor, Frigga and Balder are but one entity: a loving family excluding all whom does not belong to it.

Loki who has watched it all and understands all the mechanics approves of it. Malekith may strut about but is unworthy of real power. Worse. If Loki was lacking conviction, at least he knows what it is about. Malekith has not one clue about what it is. Power is responsibility and Loki however crazed by anger, however lacking on conviction in his worth has the mettle of a true king. Loki knows about responsibility and the cost of ledgers dripping red of the blood of collateral victims. But not Malekith; certainly not Malekith…

- 'The Vanirs are under my protection. Don't you dare touch one single strand of hair of them!'

- 'My, my. Aesirs befriending Vanirs. Today is a day of wonders. We learn that Odin has not two but three sons and we have Asgard approving of trees loving Vanaheimr. I wonder what is coming next.'

- 'If only Mjolnir was back within my grasp, I'd show you what wonders the Thunderer has up his sleeve, villain!'

-_ 'Indeed, because it would mean that you would have understand why until the missing unworthy hands to whom it's belongs what is truly the worthy's own, Asgard is doomed and Malekith's rule is the New Order!'_

And they leave like a wave turns back to the sea, Malekith leaves. Him and Kurse who pensively watches over the Vanirs followed by Odin's wife and youngest hot blood and finally the courtiers, the guards and a growling Troll.

-_ 'Stupid Elves and their crap riddles. __Little One has no love at all for Malekith nor will he be cowed by fear.'_

If Thor still stands and watches the back of the closing door like he still could see his mother, so does Loki. Frigga, the Queen, his mother. The woman he used to call Mother, he used to have as a Mother. The woman that now his eyes are open again, now that his eyes are no more blurred by madness and despair, he would but cannot call mother. He has fallen so low. He is unworthy of her love. More unworthy than ever.

And it leads him to the woman he should have called mother. Farbauti the adulteress. Farbauti who gave his life, who could have aborted but did not. Yet who led to believe her husband Laufey she was carrying his child. Why? Was she hoping against all hope that Loki was going to be Laufey's? Or that his sire, his real sire would claim her and her unborn child in time? And he computes … that … curiously though younger than Thor… he was conceived earlier.

Farbauti, wife of Laufey and lover of … blank. Pregnant of …blank, left alone to fend for herself and this unknown man who left the scene in time for her to suffer and he to get scot-free. Laufey believing himself a father would have made sure all was ready for his first born. First son. Something must have told his mother that he, Loki, was going to prove to the world Laufey's infortune. Farbauti had no choice whatsoever but flee her husband's Hall. But … give birth alone like a mare foals alone her young.

Why this temple? Possibly because she believed the child would be saved, protected by the God who delves in this building? Loki wonders if AllMother, the Vanir One was at one point worshipped in Jotunheimr… Once her child born and safe in the shadow of AllMother, she sacrificed herself. Returning boldly to Laufey, claiming her love for …blank, allowing Laufey to kill her. Safe in the knowledge her child would somehow be found.

Well, Odin found him. Maybe, maybe …blank came. Too late. Always too late. Odin had already taken infant Loki far from Jotunheimr. Blank would have failed Farbauti and Loki. Or Blank was dead. Already dead. Farbauti had saved her child, praying for a generous (in Jotunheimr?) soul would have mercy on her minuscule new-born…

Maybe his father was an Aesir or a Vanir unless it is an elf. If he had been born from a Jotun father, he would have horns. This crosses out a Jotun sire. For the rest, so many men and Gods died that year… And he looks at Little One… Freyr… Freyr was an uncommonly tall Vanir and Little One takes after his little mother. Freyr was promiscuous… in a way. There are no records of breaches of faith for Freyr. Yet, if he was conceived through Jotun biology, Freyr could be his father. Be unaware of the fact, marry Little One's mother and … and be killed by Laufey while … while what would become Little One would be just the start of the call of his name… and Loki looks at Little One with wonder.

Naturally. Naturally. Now it is obvious why the Vanir wants to share his red-headedness with him. Why he, Loki is so comfortable as a Vanir. Why Sleipnir did not try to get rid of him before the flight. Every clue was there under his eyes and he has missed every single one. Little One, Njord's legitimate grandson… Little One who spontaneously, naturally has turned to him like a young child turns to an older sibling for guidance, Little One is … his brother.

And he smiles. And bears no ill will to Thor for loving Balder. Thor has Balder as Loki has Little One. Two older brothers for two wayward naïve mischievous younger ones. Everything stands. Farbauti would have known, would have met her handsome dashing Vanir cousin. Their love would but have endured against adversity. Vanaheimr would not have been opposed to the match but Laufey already unsure on his claim to the Jotun crown for Skadi; his mother was but a daughter to Thiazi a distant cousin to Thrym, Utgardr Loki's only son… Laufey would have seen all the advantages of marrying Farbauti and once Farbauti would have presented with a male heir… Laufey's claims through his new-born son would have been non-negotiable.

Instinct. And Fate. The Norns would make sure that what was disunited would be re-united. A brother would save the other and again. Little One freeing Loki from Odin and Loki saving Little One from the Dark Elf's bullet. No wonder why Loki is so at ease with magic and shape shifting. He is Freyr's first born… except Odin has taken his magic. And he rages. And stops.

Laufey killed Freyr. Freyr would never have been able to collect baby Loki. Odin was best second choice. Born to be a king, Loki would be raised by a king. Odin must have known… What sort of plan had the AllFather? … Laufey killed Freyr. Laufey killed both his parents, Laufey had to die. To think that for a few deluded moments, Loki has been praying he would have been his son fills his mouth with bile!

Little One is his younger brother who needs guidance; Njord is his grandfather whose age will welcome an able and older grandson to take care of the Vanir Realm. Yes, Odin. Yes, I was born to be king. But not your puppet. You were hoping to put me on the throne of a realm which has approved the murder of my parents while leaving my Realm bereft of a capable heir… Poor Little One, poor Balder. Children obliged to grow up, to pretend they are adults when they are still in leading strings. Children whom own dreams are crushed because of the weight of regal responsibility over their shoulders.

_- 'I'll make sure you will be the best healer Vanaheimr has ever seen!'_

_- 'What?'_

Loki, Heir of the Vanirs. Loki will be the much needed crutch to Njord. Loki will not be king to a planet of ants. But to a realm of men who will remember with him that they once were Gods, that they are Gods. Odin will pay and soon. And the look he throws at Thor is not brotherly. Which is fair as Thor is not looking either at him kindly.

_- ''Thou, Little One's brother, show your face.'_

Thor. Thor naturally. Thor, predictably would not be shy, would not shun the truth and would state the obvious. Thor, so predictable Thor.

- _'You will excuse my dismal attire. The troll's valeting amenities are of poor quality.'_

_- 'Loki! Brother!'_

_- 'Thor. At the risk of repeating myself, I am not your brother! Never was.'_

Loki comes out of the shadows and if Little One is astonished to see the Thunderer calling brother a Jotun; Sif and the Warriors Three have reached jaw-dropping level at looking at him while Thor… well Thor, being Thor pulls a typical Thor.

_- 'You … you wear earrings.'_

_- 'Yes, Thor and I have red-hair. Like my father. My real father_.

Sif does not care if Loki wears his Asgardian armour or not; if he chooses to go the full Vanir it is his choice and frankly there are more problems actually worth discussing than commenting on Silver-Tongue new sartorial gambit.

_- 'I suppose it was a mannequin which was burnt on your pyre, just like I suppose it was you who led the Chitauri attack and not some look alike.'_

_- 'I bow to your superior understanding'_

_- 'And now you carry on disgracing the AllFather's name by committing yourself to Malekith! You, Asgard's second son. You make me sick!'_

Fandral begs to differ. It is much again his grain. But Loki is also in a cell. Like them

-_ 'Like the rest of us. He is a prisoner'_ joins in Volstagg.

- _'And he has not called for the attention of Malekith'_ confirms Fandral.

- _'Or Kurse's'_ finally concludes Hogun.

Thor has been asking to himself this question since he knows who Little One's pretend brother is. Loki is a prisoner like him. Loki has not called Malekith. Loki is not Malekith ally. And this, this is a very important piece of the puzzle which is his brother and his brother's madness. If Loki remembers to be loyal to Asgard, all hope is not lost.

If Loki is loyal, then he … he had never planned to escape from Asgard's punishment. It was … fate, luck. Pure coincidence. For whatever reason, a Vanir intended on … mischief simple mischief like humiliating Asgard but nothing else sinister, had found his brother. Loki as a Jotun would … would not have been recognizable. For mysterious reasons, both would have bound and now all of them had ended in the same prison. Maybe, the Vanir… the little real Vanir would be able to pull again his magic and get them all out of Malekith gaol?

If the Warriors Three comment on Loki's new clothes, if Sif looks at him at daggers drawn, if Thor reckons and calculates what his brother may be planning or not; Loki is looking at someone else.

Someone who thought he had found a blood brother and discovers he has warmed up a snake in his bosom.

####################################################################################################

Hi. a very long chapter but I think this cannot be halved in two chapters.

As all lead to one another.

Thor has met Frigga and his brother. Not sure yet about Loki's feelings on learning he had a third brother ...

Anyhow, Thor is minus Mjolnir but Malekith has in his claws Odin's brood. All his brood (no, no other children)

Thor has found Loki. I suspect Loki is a lot less estatic about having been found by Thor...

And we have Little One who tries so hard not to lie, who is a decent guy ... like Thor.

Little One soon to be no more Njord's heir. But he has won a brother. How will it cut with him?

And they all are still in prison.

Results: Malekith 9 Odin 0 Njord 0

Next chapter... soon. On which Loki solves a riddle he had not planned to!


	13. Chapter 13

For the first time, Loki really looks at Little One and tries to find out some subtle hitherto missed proofs on a common father. But fails. He is tall like Freyr, Little One is … little. A man indeed sorely lacking in inches. Be patient, Little One they will come, like a spurt when you'll become a real man and be a youth no more.

If Loki removes from the equation his own mother's Jotun blood, he cannot see what his Vanir straight nose can share with the un-aristocratic nose of Little One. Plus his eyebrows are not bushy! As for facial hair, Little One is slightly hairier but it sure does not grow fast. The dear child must probably shave once every blue moon! His own high-cheekbones are sharp and distinguished. Poor Little One whose cheeks still claim some of the plumpness of childhood; not to mention the freckles! Little One is aptly named; a young man barely older than …_ (who's the Asgardian whelp who was accompanying Frigga? He is related to Odin. Maybe a nephew? Hence a cousin? Odin has never spoken much of his own siblings. Except they were younger. Ve? Vili? A cousin then. Not a cousin.)_ Regardless both in dire need of an elder brother.

Finally, this clearly (and how can he have missed it because this is the only and vaguely common) thing they share from their late father: their eyes. Loki being permanently green whilst the diminutive Vanir' iris can alter from a slight brown to green to sea green and blue-green. In short, Loki takes a lot after his mother and slightly after his father while Little One is probably his mother's spitting image. The only thing Freyr has really transmitted to his boys is that. Both are men.

Regardless, the newest but not the youngest Heir of the Vanirs swears that he will protect his sibling from Malekith. This means they must get out. This means he must reconcile with the Vanir who seems to have taken badly to the deception.

Loki looks at the profile and watches how the brows are frown, the lips are closed tight and the fists are curling. If anything Vanirs are not cowards and the accusation cannot be levelled at Little One. The Vanir suddenly jerks around, runs to Loki and tries to punch his face with a mean swing. Tries because Loki is taller, stronger and more skilled in fighting. None the less the Warriors Three approve loudly and cheer for the Vanir.

_- 'You lied! You lied!'_

_- 'Hush, child. Listen to me. I never lied to you. I am Loki the Jotun and Thor is not my brother. I would never lie to you. I have done many mistakes in my life. I will do many more. No doubt at that; but never doubt of my love for you, my little blood brother. Never doubt it'_

Little One does not understand; does not see it this way. He has been the dupe from the beginning of some perverse game. He fears the Thunderer's arrogance and natural physical violence; he fears just as much Silver-Tongue because he knows words can wound deeply and where Thor can kill but wish no ill-will to his victims once fallen, the Trickster makes sure everybody knows the gullible fool you were when you fell for his poisonous mischief.

- _'Hear me out! Please, blood brother. May Yggdrasil break my branch if I lie to you of all people!_

_- 'Words!'_

_- ''I am truly Jotun. Half-Jotun as you have rightly figured out. And I suspect half Vanir indeed. I will not ask your forgiveness. I will call for your sense of Justice. As one asks to a true prince!'_

Thor would like to hear what the two men are talking about. The exchange is animated and Little One does not seem to be in a kind mood. None the less, both of them; Loki and the Vanir walk together away from Thor's side of the bars. Closer to the outside door. All he can do now is to guess from… their backs as both have turned away from him. Little One seems to be nodding.

- _'Hear me out. Yes, Farbauti is my mother and without your help I would have never known. Odin kidnapped me as a baby. Raised me as his son. Obliged Frigga to carry on the pretence. Lied to Thor, not that it must have been difficult. Thor for all his defects is a good-hearted man… I should say a better man than I will ever be… Lied to Thor, lied to me again and again.'_

Somehow at one point during his childhood, something crystallized and Loki had started to guess something was wrong. Supposedly each of them was born to be a king… one day… Yet all he could hear about was linked to Thor's coronation. Stupidly, very stupidly he thought it was smart to prevent it by introducing two Jotuns into Odin's vault…

- _'The plan was to prove to Fat… to Odin how unfit was Thor and it worked. Thor had a tantrum and … and two innocent guards died. Which was not the plan! Thor wanted revenge; Thor wanted Jotun blood spilled and I failed to convince him otherwise. We went to Jotunheimr, met Laufey… and I have been regretting that day ever since!'_

There was a welcome committee, followed by a full blown battle. During which, his left arm had been caught in the vice grip of a giant. Instead of losing his arm to the ice, said arm turned blue with the proper skin markings of any self-respecting Frost Giant. Then Odin had saved them all and punished Thor as the primary culprit to an exile on Midgard out of all places.

- _Odin found me later that day in the vault. I had allowed it to touch me and my worst nightmare had become a reality. I am not Aesir, Little One. But Jotun. A full blown monster and being a half-breed does not make it any better! I am a monster at heart. Yet this heart for all the crimes he has committed begs for atonement. Wants to be redeemed!_

Loki had challenged Odin to dare and tell him the un-varnished truth. Instead of what, weakened by the shock and the sorrow of having to punish Thor _(his favourite_!), his foster-father had fallen prey to Odin's sleep.

- _'How convenient of him. Sending Asgard's best warrior on Midgard and dropping on your shoulders the burden of the responsibilities of ruling Asgard without the solace of one word of explanation!'_

Loki takes note of the interjection. The Vanir's rebellious blood can be used in his favour… not that he plans to lie. Yet it is good to know Odin's word is not law for Little One.

-_ 'I tried to be king. Some people were not happy calling on me to rescind Thor's exile. Thor had been exiled by Father; it was Thor's stupid idea to go to Jotunheimr… Odin had to tell me the truth… I was left in the middle of nowhere… The man who had raised me could not give me answers but accepted I was a monster… the man I thought was my father, the man I thought was loving me had planned all along to use me like some trump card …. Thor would reign on Asgard while I would make sure Jotunheimr would remain quiet…. There were rebels… I tried to stop Thor… used the Des… not one of my best moments I grant you…'_

Little One listens. At some point during the tale he is listening to, Loki sees his eyes flashing. Lies do not rate high in Vanaheimr. Not high at all. And today, a liar must tell his truth to a man who is a God who is his brother. Not long lost, but deprived from. Please be the Norns merciful on him and grant Little One wisdom and generosity. Please may his brother have faith in him!

- _We fought on the Bifrost. Thor destroyed it as to avoid the destruction of the Jotnar realm I had planned. And… And I must tell you all. I… I thought… Odin had told me… Implied that my father… my father was Laufey. I… I went to see him; convincing him to … he played in my hands. Entered in Fat… in Odin's bedchamber, tried to kill the AllFather and was slain by me. You hear well Little One. I killed my own father. I willingly duped him, tricked him to come to Asgard far from his guards; tricked him and plunged my own dagger into his chest._

Little One remains immobile. He listens and only the colours of his eyes show how deeply moved he is by the very sad story he is told. Green are his eyes, green like the sea is when a tempest rages.

- I_ killed Laufey … to please Odin, so I thought. I wanted to prove I was a true Aesir, I don't know what I wanted to prove. I was lost; this was the man who had raised me. I had been exposed to die… because I was a runt. I believed each and every lie. I believed Odin. I believed him to be my father; my real father. My blood father; the father who had moral rights on me. I believed each and lie and more of them. And… and…_

There is a pause as Loki relives the worst moment of his life… when Odin rejected him; when Odin negated the very idea of Loki.

- _'I … I let go off the staff and fell. Simply… fell. I wanted it to end. I wanted to … find merciful oblivion. Total annihilation of what I was. I was a parricide. And a monster… I was, I am a monster and it is better for everybody when monsters die'_

Little One listens. Still and a single tear rolls along his cheek. A tear he wipes angrily.

- _'Odin is a bastard. Unfit to be a father, He calls himself a God; he is not even fit to be a man. Sorry, I have cut you and you deserve better than pity. I will not humiliate you with this feeble sentiment. Carry on…'_

_'I fell. A long time. A long… time. So long I suppose I let madness devour my soul. I have seen … things… I do not know… Was it dreams or nightmares or hallucinations from a fevered mind…? I was lost… I fell on a rock. Another of my long list of mistakes…'_

Thanos, He who courts Death was waiting for him. And mightily unpleasant it was. At first, they …. Whatever, somehow some part of his mind recovered. Loki will not cause Little One to pity him. Nor will he give nightmares to his sibling. Suffice to know it was… unpleasant. Loki will not spoil his brother; Loki will spare the child from Thanos. At least, Little One will not be contaminated by The Other!

- _'When they judged my mind to be sane enough and I was madder than a Spring Hare, they sent me to Midgard. I was supposed to steal the Tesseract and open a portal to an Alien race of true monsters. Ironical isn't it? A monster leading an army of monsters. In reward, Midgard was supposed to be mine. Bearing in mind what all the Chitauris ever did on Earth was to bring destruction on it, I still marvel at my own naivety. Thanos wanted to destroy it, wanted the total annihilation of the entire race of Midgardians… I suppose now on hindsight he had planned to kill me all along at one point…'_

Luckily for Midgard, the ants had heroes. Heroic deeds were done and the stain, the control… the bond Thanos had on his mind was broken through a counter spell.

- _'You were in luck, br… Loki. Counter spells against Thanos. These Midgardians must be powerful sorcerers!'_

_- 'Sorcerers? Methinks not. But aye for powerful. The counter spell was successful and … painful. I wonder if it was not what the Other had in mind when he threatened me with wishing for something as simple as pain…'_

Thor who had fought along the heroes had brought him back to Asgard. Shackled and muzzled like a rabid animal…

-_ 'Rabid I was. I was lost. I wanted to die, to live, to kill. To avenge the man I looked as my sire Laufey. I wanted revenge from Odin and his lies. I wanted to punish Midgard from having humiliated me. Finally I wanted to kill Thor because the poor dear oaf remains faithful to our childhood. "I was adopted" says he like it explains and absolves everything. Thor, if you were my brother, my real brother, you would be at my side and avenge the life full of lies I was fed on'_

After that, on their return Odin and Loki had had … an enlightening discussion. Just like Thor had been exiled on Midgard deprived of his divine powers, Loki had lost all access to his own magical powers and sent to jail. Probably to reflect on his misbehaviour! And maybe apologize and thank finally the AllFather for all his mercies!

- _'None the less, I was able to do one thing. While Odin was making sure I was deprived of my … magic, I was able to secure the one thing I deemed the most important. Laufey was Jotun. Deprived of all what was my life, at least as a Jotun I I could grieve Laufey as the father I had slain, betrayed, hated. It was not a lot but A Jotun son could mourn a Jotun father. That's when you found me'_

Little One listens now to the silence which follows this tale of woes. He bites his lips, looks up at the ceiling of the cell, covered by cobwebs in some place; looks down at the stone floor then looks at Loki.

- _'I listen. And you have not completed your plea.'_

Once free, Loki wanted first to … lure Little One to take him to Midgard to avenge from Thor on Thor's human lover. This was not to be. Thanked be the Norns.

- _'Rather to comply to… to be played with, you gave what I really needed. As which t'was not revenge but answers I was looking for. Any adopted child wants to know his untold story. Hence you gave life to my mother. I accept she was … cheating on my fa… on the man who should have been my father. I appreciate she exchanged her life to save mine. I know you must have been surprised by my skin marks. I will explain. Later when we are home. I will explain and everything will be right. Wonderfully right. Do not blame your father. I do not blame him. It was fate. Our parents are resting in peace. What more can we wish for them?'_

_- 'Father?'_

Loki does not stop; cannot stop. Will not stop. Truth is like a drug. Like a spring of fresh water in the desert where a voyager desperate by thirst runs to. He needs truth and he will say it. His truth. Just like Little One took to him, he has taken to Little One. Little One gave him what he needed. And Loki felt that giving his life for the Vanir was right. Because it was. After… after when he was wounded… he will never forget how it was Little One who carried him safe to the jail. Otherwise he would have been dead meat and he does not mean the Troll. Together they are in that jail and together they will get free from it. Back home. Loki of Vanaheimr is coming home.

- _'You… you think you would love, like to live in my realm? I must think. No, that is unfair. Good kings hear and decide. They do not demand time off…. Nor horse herders when wolves attack. Naturally. Naturally. Wolves attacks do happen, you know!'_

- _'I do not doubt it. Little one and the most dangerous kind walks on two legs'_

Little one does not understand what his father has to do with Loki… But Loki Silver-Tongue of Asgard has a way with words and Loki the Jotun seems to be just as ease with them. What would Grandfather do? The plea has not contained one lie. However twisted is Loki's story, this story was true and true. If Loki is indeed Jotun and Thor's behaviour seems to confirm it… then it follows there was no lie from the beginning and simply some understandable prevarications. Not one iota of lies and plenty of tragic events. Can he blame Loki for his anger? No. Can he blame him for what happened on Midgard? There are plenty of mitigating circumstances which Loki rightly does not bring forward. His ledger is red. At least, he does not shy from it. Can he be redeemed? This belongs to the AllMother and the AllFather to decide? Should Loki be welcomed in Vanaheimr? Every man deserves a second chance and Little One needs to prove he can say thanks to Loki. Loki saved his arse!

- _'Somebody has had a recent string of very bad days. Let's hope that Vanaheimr can reverse this trend… Brother!'_

The little Vanir's half smile is so cocky that if Loki was not so moved by his own tragedy, he would comment that sarcasm is not exactly what he had in mind when he has started to honestly, without lies or omissions to share all the events which had led a prince of the Realm Eternal into a Dark Elf jail. He would but will not. Because Little One has called him brother and brothers can be snarky at each other. Once and a while. Especially little brothers when they try to hoodwink their elders. Wolf attacks! What next: bilgesnipe hunting? Vanirs do not lie and Little One is the worst liar Loki has been given to meet... Soon he will teach... not teach. He will not corrupt Little one. One dark prince is enough!


	14. Chapter 14 and Chapter 15

Chapter 14

Thor has not missed that Little One has been mired into the pool of endless lies by Silver-Tongue. It wounds him; yet if the Vanir is stupid enough to buy Loki's drivel… one thing is sure he is not the Vanir's keeper. He is not the Vanir's brother. Which leads him to think of Balder, of his brother. Of his brothers, of Loki.

The man locked in Asgard was insane and the man dressed up as a Vanir does not exactly breathe of a sane mind. He seems to have forged some sort of friendship with Little One, a Vanir spy. Not exactly the best sort of people to befriend when one is a prince.

Should he remind the God of Mischief tthat too many tears have been drawan by Asgard, that he is an Odinsson despite what his foolish pride says and that no prince can harbour the heart of a traitor. He must cut ties with the spy!

Should he tell Loki that the Trickster has a brother? A different other one, a more innocent one. Probably not. Loki half crazed was devoured by jealousy. Loki on Midgard would have slaughtered himself the childwithout the help of the Chitauris. Loki in Malekith's hands does not seem to have turned traitor; still it is early ways to call hiscondition to be under control not to say in remission.

If only he was on Asgard. His parents would know if or if not Loki is 'better'. Odin is too far away and Frigga is too close. Mother… Mother 's tears were true; she lost a son. How can Loki stop at the word adopted? How can he stubbornly refuse to see he has a real family. ... Mother. He must free his, their mother. The mother of three Asgardian princes whose all children are imprisoned The middle one being stark mad, the youngest too young to fight along his brothers while the older one despite being a seasoned warrior, the best warrior of their realm has lost controlled of his magical hammer. What a dismal band of brothers…

They must get free none the less… And he turns to Sif and his threefriends. It is time to hold council.

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-_ 'How is Gr…the Great Khan of the Vanirs?'_

_- 'Grand.. the Great Khan is fine. He … he is doing quite all right fora man of his age. He has not had any of Idunn's apples since the Great War; still look at him! Grandfa… Great Khan is…'_

_- 'I know who Grandfather is, Little One and you better learn to hide your secrets with more skills. Malekith would use you as a bargainning chip to get to the Dark Energy. As for Thor… .Less you speak, less they will use your words against you'_

Little One blushes with the hesitant grace of a man leaving childhood behind. Wonders how long it has been obvious he was more than he pretended to be. Is glad Loki of As… Loki the Jotun wants to keep his secret safe and cannot help to worry about Loki tricking him to perdition. What price will the Mischievous One ask? How heavy will be the pound of flesh he will want as reward? What does Loki want?

- _'Vanaheimr will be… is from now on my home. We must make sure our five companions never share what knowledge there is to be about the Spider Horses … No!'_

Loki put a finger in front of his Vanir companion. No, he does not want to know the truth. A secret shared is not more a secret! He has all the time in the world to know and since Odin has removed all magic from him, knowledge in this cell would be truly wasted time. He does not need to know. Vanirs do not lie; as a congenital acknowledged liar nobody will, can and should trust him. The proof, the reality of his honesty will be in his actions. Not his words. By refusing to allow the betrayal of Vanaheimr's best magical weapon, he shows he harbours the true heart of a true Vanir.

- _'Why would you prefer my realm to yours? Loki the Jotun half-breed raised by indifferent foster-parents had reason to look at Asgard as unfit to be his home. How can Vanaheimr become home to an Odinsson?'_

_- 'Odin adopted me. I am still the half-breed. Please, allow Freya's grandson to find shelter in her realm?'_

_- 'Freya... You may claim to have lost your magic, you still have your touch with words. Freya and Njord are kin. Therefore, I can't but grant you asylum...'_

A wistful smile followed by a bow is his reply. If Thor has concerns about Loki, Loki has concerns about Little One. Both brothers being dissatisfied with the behaviour of their younger ones. While said young ones look to be blissfully unaware of said concerns!

- _' Regardless, next year I shall be probably married and our people will be allowed to worry about the next youngest Heir of the Vanirs.'_

_- 'Still, humour me. What is exactly the line of succession regarding Vanaheimr?'_

The rule is simple or complicated. Typical Vanir confusion. The Eldest. The Eldest of the king's children; failing this the eldest of his grandchildren, failing that the eldest of his nephews cousins would be called . Male and female alike. If the oldest grandchild is a girl being born to the youngest daughter, Vanaheimr will be ruled by petticoats. Not that Vanir women would wear petticoats!

Vanir ladies may or may not, depending on their mood, show their faces. They may or may not wear breeches or long dresses. Their hair may or may not be dressed in elaborate hairstyles. Said ladies confuse a lot the rare Aesirs who visit their realm. As Aesirs are more than too often bored soldiers stuck in lonely garrisons, it can lead to misinterpretations followed by unpleasant altercations.

The Asgardians believing the women to be wanton and inclined to share their favours, more than often get a slap of the wrist, when it is not a smack on their cheek. Many Asgardians still smart at this incomprehensible attitude while trying to escape the ensuing angry Vanir menfolk.

The women take care of themselves. This much is true. Their partners as the easy-going men who are not Gods, seldom engage in formal marriages. It does not prevent them from taking a dim view at the heavy handed Asgardian attempts to dalliance.

- _'Our next King will be Njord's eldest grandchild. Failing this Heir, it will be Balder.'_

_- 'And Balder is…?'_

_- ' Balder Odinsson. The child. The child who was there with Malekith.'_

_- ' Balder O… Oh… A third son … Another relic, then.'_

It would seem brothers are not raining but pouring. One day, Loki believed his brother was no more his brother and he was unbearably alone; now, he has too many! The not-brother…s and the soon-to-be one. Now if he has an extra sibling he knows nothing about, it means that he is not lonely sitting on the shelf devoted to useless might-have-been. How much did Thor know? From what Thor looks as Loki darts a quick eye on the oldest Odinsson, said not-brother seems to be quite as surprised as he is. Odin has lied to both brothers. What about Balder? Is he aware the Queen is his mother? Does he know who his father is; if he does, where does he stand in the line of succession? Why has Frigga said Loki was second in the line? After all, he is not an Odinsson or is it because being adopted changed the deal? Unless Balder is not on the line of succession because…

Bright as he is, the Trickster cannot fathom why he was not told for all these years about a younger brother. He certainly would have welcomed a new face. He would have been able to share his anxieties about being unfit, unprepared, feeling woefully un-satisfactory. Balder would have reassured him, shown him his good points just like he would have supported his inexperienced little, young (so young brother)… or not.

The age gap between Odin's eldest sons and this baby brother is an abyss. He calculates that he is old enough to be … to have potentially been old enough to sire Balder himself! The pregnancy happened when… Thor and he were young bucks ready to prove their mettle in an arena where he was not aware his parents could be still engaging. Blind. He has been blind to his parents. Thor and he were devoting days and weeks on training fields, in hunting trips. When it was not visiting other realms including Vanaheimr steppes. When it was not spending days pouring over old manuscripts in the palatial library, trying his hands at spells his fathe…Odin frowned upon or openly competing with Thor as whom would bed more ladies than the other. Silver-Tongue may not have been as successful as Thor on the war scene, though he is no mean warrior and Thor would have no other but he to keep his back; Silver-Tongue has been way ahead of Thor when it came to engage battles in the boudoir. And just as merciless as his brother with the losing as he may have been yet it was him who provided titillating details to a wide–eyed Thor. Twas he who started experimenting when he was reportedly reading books in his father's library late at night.

At the beginning, the royal brothers had shared a large apartment and their beds had not been far apart till insensibly the distance between said beds grew wider and the day came it was obvious both needed their own room. Their own breathing space. If only to avoid greeting certain ladies met in other voluptuous circumstances. At one point both brothers kept a chart on whom could out do the other, who was an unassailable fortress; both having a good laugh about some high born ladies known for their virtue or lack of thereof rather.

Loki had a passionate affair with the fairer sex whose lack of prowess as warrior did not prevent from being ruthless winners to the art of Love. Love… The younger prince was a seasoned courtier when it came to the refined art of courting. Wooing a maid was easily done, easily said. Flattery, honeyed words hiding the disguised plunderer. And plunder he did. At first it was just fun. Just the pleasure of discovering what his body and other bodies could do. Like a life-size test straight from Odin's laboratories. A full-scale experiment. Then he discovered the delight of believing one-self in love and being the object of Love. Followed by the crashing revelation one could love no more; one could lose one's love. Far from being a game this emotion could be deadly, wounding; aimed at grieving the other. Lovers could be fickle. Lovers could forget all about you in the blink of an eye, yet who could be swept away by a brother who happened to be the First prince, the First born, his golden brother. Lovers…

As for people you would not love if they were the last persons left in Asgard... Like Sif. Who pretends to love what she is doing. Not because she does not like it, Loki grants her to be rightly called the War Goddess. QA true Shield Maiden. But because she thinks also it will please Thor and Thor is so blind! Sif who calls herself a warrior but Loki suspects that deep inside she does not. Does not whole-heartedly enter into being a warrior, does not enter the ranks of prospective Valkyrie without misgiving at the dedication it will require. Wants to be a warrior and a lover. Ending up with Thor as mentor regarding her aptitudes on the battlefield and as a friend… a friend! Silly girl!... How can he see her but as a friend if she does not allow him to see there is somebody else beside the sword wielder.

As for Loki... Stupid Loki! Losing a girl whose name and face he cannot remember. One girl too much has been his downfall. After that humiliating episode, Silver-Tongue has only been bent on pure mischief, evil-dripping revelling! No love lost here, just … just sex and cruel jests. The aim was to take as many victims and no prisoner left behind. If it left him with a bitter taste in the mouth, it certainly did not show. Only Thor and Thor only did venture as why he did not settle down _(why all these needless unreasonable conquests)_ only his m…the Queen would gently sigh and wish him '_peace_'. Peace… As for Odin, he would offer no comment. Unless his son's philandering ways were at risk of causing more scandal than usual, then the AllFather would send away the troubled jaded wife or marry off the too bold now boring ex-debutante far from Asgard… It certainly did not make his life any easier with their male relations.

All fools, all whores. All cheaters. Love is a waste of his precious time. An excuse to release physical tension, pent up energy. Nothing more. Nothing but wanton adulteresses who betray the trust of their lovers. All of them. His own mother included…. Not his mother. Not Frigga, not the Queen. Not Mother. And he has… would have a brother if… if. Balder…

Balder Odinsson. Odin's third son. Second son born to Frigga… and he turns to Little One who has pulled all the weeds collected along the very long walk to this cell. The Vanir… his blood-brother, his soon to be brother. His just brother has engaged into weaving on some strange sequences the tall grass muttering something in a language, a tongue he does not understand. Would understand if he had his magic back. Along the braiding, he watches his blood-brother's finger tracing runes over the ensuing rope. Vanir magic. Does the child plan the walls to fall as if he were to pull them down with the long string?

- _'Why Balder? Why not Thor? Thor is the eldest. Is it because Vanirs do not approve of a king who would rule over two realms?'_

_- 'Thor is Odin's first born. Balder is Frigga's. Frigga is my cousin at some degree or another. She has just one son, I believe. Balder is for sure her one and eldest. If… when… if… the Vanir double circlet will be his to wear.'_

_- 'Balder… first born… Who is Thor's mother?'_

- _'Gaea, Mother Earth. In the past she was called Jord. After she turned her back from Odin and her new born son Thor, after she became a Chosen One as she renounced Asgard, as she renounced to be Aesir, she became New again. AllMother gave her this name: Gaea.'_

Jord… Earth. The Goddess of Earth who is totally disregarded by Asgard. A Goddess his tutors called a mad woman who gave herself willingly to profess the Vanir Heresy. A woman who proclaims men and women, Gods and Goddesses truly equal as in not the Asgardian way.

- _'What happened?'_

_- 'Ask my gr… ask our King for the finer details. Odin was young, wanted a wife at his taste. Jord got disgusted by his boorish manners and slammed the door. On him.'_

_People _forget the times were unsettled, uncertain. it was war. Realm against realm. Husbands against wives as Laufey. Let suffice to say Asgard, Jotunheimr and Vanaheimr were not lucky with their Queens. Plus this is Asgard business. A sad business. Gaea leaving Thor was wrong; Odin being just as wrong.

_- 'Humiliating for for the AllFather. Better keep it unrecorded.'_

_- 'What happened to…? Oh yes, Njord is a widower.'_

Compared to Laufey and Odin Queens, Vanaheimr Queens had led a quiet life. But the winds of war which had seized the realms brought also pestilence to the horse herders. Within a few days, Njord lost partners, children, grandchildren… Of the hecatomb, only Freyr managed to escape leaving to the Jotun King the severance of the life-thread of the surviving Heir of the Vanirs.

- _'Njord. Then Freyr. Now, me. Little One. Hopefully not Balder. I will marry soon and give Grandfather many more Heirs and save our realm from the odious Asgardian brat. Our faith will be protected and all will end well.'_

The information he has just digested may not go down well with Thor. What a revelation. Thor is not Mother's son. Thor has just as much or just as less claims to Frigga. Thor's loss is Loki's gain. This is equality. Not as he has original envisioned it. Still to know he is not alone in having lost his real mother feels surprising satisfying. Farbauti tried to save her baby; Jord dumped Thor as an unwanted package leaving husband and child behind never to return. The not brothers are brothers in being orphaned.

Chapter 15

- _'Why… yes. Naturally, it would diminish Odin's standing if it was revealed his first wife had abandoned him. As for Thor… what a lovely morgen-gabe… for Mother!'_

He imagines Frigga having to raise a child which was her husband followed by an orphaned Jotun. He wishes he could have his magic back for one second, change his shape as of a mice and watch in the shadows the interesting scenes which were omitted in the edited version of the real Asgard taught by the Palace school. A Realm Eternal which shines like gold in the distance and reveals itself to be brittle and false. A dark world. A realm darker than his own soul.

-_ 'Why was Balder hidden?_

_- 'I don't know. Some prophecy I believe.'_

Loki raises his eyebrow, invites by his hand the Vanir to elaborate…. The way Little One pronounces prophecy, it rings personal.

- _'It is said our three realms are united like the… the strands I am braiding for Sleipnir. And Ragnarok will happen when each and every strand snaps. The first will be a Vanir mirror held by three children followed by one Asgardian youth and lastly a doubly-bonded albeit only once-broken forever-fettered Jotun.'_

_- 'By definition, prophecies are obscure. This one follows the rule.'_

_- 'Numbers are important, they say. I have tried. Makes no sense at all. Plain Elfin Rubbish between you and me.'_

-_ Three and Three but it is one or two, then one followed by two unless it is… Vanaheimr is freedom …A couple? ... followed by an Aesir warrior with a double yet broken sword. Ragnarok, you say? Though prophecy . The idea would be laughable. Until one remembers worse things have happen with less cause._

Balder, kept locked safely tucked away from a pompous prophecy. Why was he brought back to Asgard? Did Odin seriously believe that introducing the child to a raving lunatic would have healed Loki from the madness which had engulfed him until … Little One healed him? As in an unconscious reflex, he rubs his shoulder where one bullet branded his skin and he knows the wound is no more. Or it could be that Balder is going to become the second Prince of Asgard. Anotrher golden son, another son who is the favourite!

Loki will make sure Balder does not inherit the Vanir kingdom. Smiles as he knows he has already made sure Odin's ambitious plans regarding Balder will never come to fruition. Oh, it is brilliant. Odin's plan is faultless. Thor born to be King will not rule Asgard. Midgard is for you… He smirks as the vision plays into his mind: the Midgardian Avengers having to bow to clueless Thor. How do they... yes PointBreak. The meaning is lost on him; but the mockery is not! Vanaheimr would go to Balder. Njord is not getting young and Little One's rash tendency to play stupid pranks suggests a life at risk of being cut short. Soon.

As for Loki, the Jotun runt must have been seen as a grace coming from the Norns. Odin would bestow to Jotunheimr his adopted son. Asgard would rule over four realms. Would not. Will not.

Loki, Freyr's eldest son plans to live a very long life and beget as many sons… and daughters as need be.

- _This girl… this betrothed. Is it something arranged for the Heir, is it something more personal? As only written for Little One._

_- It has been marked specially for me. I cannot… one can rescind from own's binds. From one's word of honour. The bride has no choice. We are in both together, as the decision was taken by our elders. The Norns have decided. We both obey._

_- It is unrelated to the Heir?_

_- No. bloodlines Yes. It is complicated. Asgard considers ... it's controversial. Our shamans, the Runes Bones... We are a Cycle. We cannot but become one. We have been pledged before the Beginning and after the End. Do not worry. I am sure… I am quite confident theAllMother… and the AllFather will make our union fruitful. And who knows? The bride and the groom may come to learn and like each other tolerably well._

Loki understands. It is a matter of choice and his blood brother has not been coerced. Little One will marry according to traditions a bride especially chosen for him. Love does not have to intervene in this instance. Other considerations... Pedigree. Qualities and weaknessesone will bring is to complete, to match seamlessly the other. A rare combination.

A cycle. Whereas Asgard is the Realm Eternal where Odin is the Lord of the Gods (Please do not ask about Lord Bor Ymirsson and what it implies if a God has a father and a Grandfather or how they died, because they did!),Vanaheimr believes that not only the Gods do not hail of Asgard or the Vanir men. Worse their Gods play endlessly the same game: Chaos finds Order morphing into an AllFather eternally mating an AllMother resultant into Life who is bountiful like the AllMother and chaotic like her grandfather while Death (who cannot but follow Life as there cannot be death if there has not been life prior to it) is so attached to his divine twin sister that he wants to keep her all for Himself. Chaos is the lustful, slightly warrior-like AllFather and Death. Life is AllMother when she has given a purpose as Order. All being One, all being different. Reliving endlessly the birth and the death of the Greater Universe of the Great Forest of the World Trees where Yggdrasil has no preeminence. A world tree lost among equals.

A cycle. Just like their Gods who are avatars of themselves, some Vanirs believe they are avatars of the Gods. Thus said lucky or unlucky men who are not Gods must marry their counterpart. Only a woman marked as Life can do for a man called as Death by their shamans. Such marriages go through the Blessing of the Nine Realms of the Four Elements. He or She who dare to try and break the Eternal Bond with the pair will pay with his own life. AllMother and her two avatars Order and Life may be lenient; such is not the case for Allfather in all his aspects. Chaos is territorial just as much as Death is jealous. Nobody is allowed to intrude on the divine pairing. Chaos, AllFather and Death will all strike together the unforgiving blow.

- _'Ah!... And you are...?'_

_- 'We are Beautiful Chaos and Healing Order. We ... Could be worse. I do not plan to die yet!'_

Little One giggles. Chaos fits him. Since Loki is obliged to follow him, they have gone through a few adventures not all pleasant leading to bewildering Earth-Quaking challenging revelations. Asgard must still be reeling of the chaos the little Vanir has inflicted on its certitudes. What sort of woman would do for the youth? Order, as in a wife, sounds boring.

A wife... Loki wrinkles his elegant straight nose. He smells the idea, tastes the water. A wife? Or not... Maybe this is his destiny. To remain single…or to marry a 'good' 'nice' 'boring'… and as he feels tiredness pulling his eyelids down, he starts to imagine what sort of wife he wants. Except he does not want. A wife.

A wife must be regal. Must be wise and stay wisely three steps behind her husband. A wife must be like Frigga but stand her ground like when Mother disagreed with Odin. Wise but not boring. She must like … fun… tricks and mischief. Gentle mischief naturally. Not boring. Smart. He could not abide a wife deprived of intelligence. Deprived of magic… like him.

Not deprived. A magician. Yes she must also be skilled in wizardry crafts. Mischievous, that goes without saying. She must be the most beautiful woman of Asgard. No. She must be … everything but Aesir… and not Jotun. Not Jotun, Everything but Jotun. Beautiful. Manners, elegance of deportment. A born Queen. But not cold. She must be alive; she must be passionate. She must be skilled in love-making. But not too much. She must be his. Though he will never be hers. Loki belongs to Loki. Loki does what he wants.

His. She must be his. His only. She will be his and His One. Loki fears he is a bit like Farbauti… a bit too possessive. Too territorial. His fingers press tentatively the pereviously injured shoulder as to make sure all is fine from now on. He carries on the day-dream.

Tall, she must be tall. He cannot abide midgets and Jane Foster with her quiet dignity does not please his eyes. As for the Widow, though she dared to challenge him, he expects less stealth and more ... innocence? More he spends time imagining his future Queen, less she sounds findable. Unrealistic expectations would say Odin and Thor would laugh. Finally, she must obey him like one must obey the AllFather because… and he awakes coming to realize that if he is to reign, one day, over Vanaheimr he has to come to terms with the acceptance of this perfect bride being an heretic.

#########################################################################

The troll does not come back. The mouldy loaves of bread left in each cell look more and more appetizing while this time, calls for more water remain unanswered.

Little One has obtained an ungainly plait of weeds which must have a role to play with the sorcery of the Spider Horse. Still with some shorter unused stems, he carries on braiding. Twisting some smaller rope. And pushes the result in Loki's hand.

- _'You may find this handy to find your way in the Forest. Snap it and I shall hear you calling. Wherever I may be. I shall make sure you never stray on the right path.'_

- More Vanir magic? He! Weeds do not feed a man! Groans Volstagg.

- Your wife will not have to enlarge your breeches after your return. She will be quite content. Sneers Fandral.

- You don't expect him to fight in his undies? Snickers Sif.

- I would cherish this vision. Concludes Hogun

- We must get out of this cell! By Asgard, we cannot stay prisoners. We are princes of the Realm Eternal. Our blood is boiling of this injury to our honour!

- I hear you, Thor. Still getting out without Mjolnir may end up by us returning to this elegant abode.

Thor would like his hammer back. Very much, thank you. But they fell into a trap soon after their arrival in Svartalfheimr and Malekith's pell which is a miserable copy, a lighter version of Odin's spell when he was exiled on Midgard is working.

- I cannot make Mjolnir hear me. It dropped from my hands and is still where it fell. Nobody can lift it. And the counter-spell is captured in a riddle. You have heard it. Malekith is gleeful of his mischief!

- Where is it?

- It fell near the Stables, where Malekith's horses are allowed to get a sprint and exercise when the field is not occupied by the training of his soldiers.

Loki knows the answer to the riddle. He may be disallowed to practice his sorcery; his mind stays as powerful and Odin has not unplugged it. Knowing the answer is not enough; Thor and his Asgardian companions are set to die tomorrow. Which is why the Troll has not turned up. Why waste good food on people who will be dead soon …?

-_ 'What if we ask to be witness to Malekith's greatest achievement? As Vanirs, we could vouch to our king Njord that it is true Malekith captured the Thunderer and put him to death!'_

Aside the fact Thor is reluctant to provide the principal attraction to the distraction of jail-languishing Vanirs, he fails to see how the promise of Vanirs applauding to his glory will mollify Malekith.

- _'Even if you know how to give me back Mjolnir… Loki, do you remember when ...'_

Thor stops. Before reaching a potential breaking point of the very slow process of re-bridging some faith, some trust with his brother. Tonight, they must build and not destroy. The process is more fraught in danger than constructing the Bifrost.

-' _I know how to give you back the hammer.'_

_- 'Why would he let you near my Mjolnir…'_

Because he will. Little One has a straight answer. After explaining why and how, they all agree to the common plan: Loki and the youth are to distract Malekith by promising him a demonstration of the magical weaving of the Spider Horse. Something will happen and Little One smiles while his right lower canine gently shows and rubs against his upper lip. Like a little fox. The Vanir has some mischief in mind and the Dark Elves are in for a nasty surprise.

Thor and the Asgardians will be far enough as to give the Accursed a false impression of security. Once handed Mjolnir, Thor and his companions will cause mayhem and hopefully win the day.

-_ 'We shall fight together, brother. We have never lost a battle when you and I, when we were together.'_

_- 'I seem to remember a time in Jotunheimr... If Allfather had not turned up in time…'_

Thor looks at Loki. But sees no evil in his brother's eyes. His answer seems to have been sincere. Yet with Loki where does truth end and where do lies begin ? where does poison becomes a vitalizing cordial?

- _'Unlike my brother, I am a lot less gullible as to you plan to distract Malekith. What are you planning to do?'_

_- 'One and maybe two things: I shall jump and possibly play drummer boy. One thing is sure: if I have my way… Malekith will regret the day he was conceived. Nobody may but true Vanirs ride the SpiderHorses. Nobody can use the Dark Energy, our AllMother's own blood for his own selfish gain! Trust me: he will not forget it. He will rue this day!'_

- _'And if you fail.'_

_- 'Grandfather will have to look for another heir. But it will be fine and… and I shall marry my betrothed. We shall put our steps on the same Earth, finding common ground._'

The bride will weave the winds while the groom will walk the sky . They willl soar to the Highest Heaven. Clouds will give fresh shadow from the soaring heat of Father Sun. Like kites flying in the wind. Then all will stand still, the wind will hush as the groom will hold hands with what is his own..

They will dance in the waves and the bride will refresh her life companion's harassed brow like a soothing rain. The newly married pair will warm each other up like Fire. There will never be enough wood to match the fire of the fusion of their souls as she will sleep under the roof on his tent. There, the seed of tomorrows will be allowed to grow and they will only drink forever from one and one cup only fresh foaming Vanir Ale.

A real Vanir wedding. He remembers reading about the ceremony. Plenty of fertility rites. To be married through the Nine Realms of the Four Elements is a serious proof of attachment. Unlike the free-will unions, this cannot be dissolved. But by Death.

- _'Death is AllFather is Chaos. Order is AllMother is Life. Blessed be the Divine Twins. What has been read will be written again. I shall marry my betrothed. If we survive till the day after tomorrow. Trust me, Loki for I trust you. Tomorrow will see wondrous things.'_

Loki is impressed secretly by Little One's faith. But after a childhood spent in Asgard on adoring a father who is a God, wrecked by the sudden realization said God was a father with feet of clay prone to kidnap innocent babies, he is done with Gods and Fathers. The Hulk has shown him the real secret: Asgardians may be immortal Gods; they are not immune to pain. To be called a puny God by such a dull creature... He can… does not, does believe anymore in any Gods. Vanirs do not believe in the divinity of Asgard; none the less they have Gods. Loki… Loki has no home, no Gods, nothing…

-_ 'Let's try and sleep Loki. Volstagg seems to snore less tonight. Fasting must be doing some good.'_

Little One wraps himself inside a blanket and soon falls asleep likethe child he is still. Thor does not sleep. Not yet. Both princes may be living their last night; both are readying soul and body to a day to come which may end up in abject disaster or utter glory.

Thor wants this day to show to the Nine Realms Loki of Asgard is back. Loki wants to preserve the frail peace of mind he has been able to reconstruct. Possibly in Vanaheimr. Tomorrow, he must escape again. .. He is more tired than he thought he could be . How long has it been since he was able to sleep, to really sleep at peace within Yggdrasil's folds? Tired... So tired...

Dear oaf... you are in for quite a surprise... Mother... Dreams. Fleeting flashes.

A black stallion galloping along side a mare. a black falcon flying by his mate, two salmons dancing along a glistening river and two foxes biting gently each other, tasting each other blood... a little boy whose face he knows but cannot recognize. And the dear shadow of his...

And it is tomorrow.

##########################################################################

Note to the reader

A very long double chapter. I could not stop as all the main characters are enclosed in a small tight stage. I wanted to have them interact, to voice their misgivings.

Next chapter coming soon.


	15. Chapter 16

_'For Asgard'_ is repeated each time with a different voice. Loki stays mute, earning dark looks from Sif and a pained one from Thor. For whom should he harden his resolve? Odin does not earn his love, nor does Asgard deserve his regard. It is too early to claim Vanaheimr as its own. His mother is dead; as for Frigga … his mother is a prisoner and to know her behind bars is an unbearable pain.-

- _'For my betrothed'_. Says quietly Little One.

…

- _'For she who called me son'_ Neutral and true enough.

And Thor, imbecile Thor smiles. His brother may be difficult to understand at times; yet when the going gets tough, Loki is his right-hand man.

The troll opens wide the door with an angry sneer; mind you the poor dear must be ravenous.

-_ 'Come out, you scum. You, the all of you, Asgardian riff-raff'_

The Warriors Three would fight at who should be the first to kill the insulting base creature; as it is they have no weapon. But their tongues. Now the troll can hear all what they think and know about his lineage. Sif would have joined the fray but for Thor who without words silences her.

_-'Eh! Good warden, is it true our Lord Malekith of Accursing Glory is going to get these who dared to invade our blessed homeland beheaded'_

_- 'Indeed and I shall make a nice roast of them five!'_

_- 'We wish you a hearty feast… If only we could attend … Do you think his Greatness would allow my young scamp of a brother and me to be… humble witnesses to this magnificent deed? Odin's total humiliation as his heir dies at the hands of the Imperial Army of Svartalfheimr's headsman!_

Loki blesses his wounds. It was Little One and only he who has had dealing with the oafish gaoler. Now fully healed, he can revert to the role of the wiser older brother who rules rough-shod over the youth. Using his born talent with words, the Lie-Smith weaves his web of deceptions over his unsuspecting victim. Later when they are free and fight (hopefully not to die), he will make sure it is his dagger which digs into the Troll's heart. He has not forgotten the spit in the water when he was injured. He has not forgotten Little One having to kneel to the ugly beast. Loki has his wits and his memory about just as clear as before when all started…

-_ 'Why should you be privy to such a daring do, miserable horse herder?'_

_- 'Because our king will want to know. Through reliable, truthful eyes who saw and lips who speakth Truth.'_

_- 'The old buzzard may wish to know. Doesn't mean he'll get his wish'_

_- 'We could be… thankful. Our Great Khan would be very keen to know. So keen he might consider to … allowing … certain exchange… as gift of appreciation for well-provided services… Such favour would be lavishly rewarded'_

Loki's slender fingers tap the length of the bar on which he is leaning. Fingers mimicking the gallop of a multi-legged horse.

-_ 'Indeed… I, Little One swear by the head of my clan that today Lord Malekith will see what has seldom been seen before. A herd of Spider Horses, jumping just for him. And I shall show him how our stallions dance!'_

The troll cannot believe his ears. The two Vanirs are going to… the horses and the dark energy! He runs out, he flies out of the prison; barely remembering to close the door behind him. The quizzical look Little One gets from Loki elicits a smile only equalled in mischievousness by Silver-Tongue himself!

- _'Vanirs do not lie. I have promised to show him how our horses dance. I have not said he will like it!'_

Malekith must not be far because the troll is back. With Kurse behind him. The Dark Elf is not buying the sudden change of heart of his prisoners.

_- 'Why would you give us free access to the Dark Energy'_

Loki let Little One open the negotiation. Parleying is not a problem for a prince skilful with words; still it is about Sleipnir and he is clueless about a few things His ignorance would show.

- _'Njord, my liege will show to Malekith how thankful he can be when Asgard's best sons are brought to stand prisoners, kneeling to those of the true Faith. Blessed be the Forest!'_

_- 'We are no heretics!'_

'Malekith will find he can break a few rules if he can get his grubby hands on AllMother's blood. Asgard is worth a change of gospels!'

- _'And you will escape all together. I am not stupid, Vanir'_

Time for big brother to intervene before Little One gets too hot-headed.

- _'Far from it. The Asgardians will witness our Vanir superiority. Thor will stand but a few steps from Lord Malekith while we shall demonstrate the Secret of the Spider Horse. How we weave…_'

And he chuckles. He will not say more.

-_ 'I will make sure the two of you are never left alone with the horse'_

Kurse leaves with a cunning look at the two Vanirs. He is not buying their display of affection for Svartalfheimr. Still, he cannot but want to bring himself to his Lord the offer. If truly the two brothers can achieve what Odin himself failed to obtain… then Malekith the Accursed should be named Malekith the Blessed. Once with free access to the Dark Energy, his plan for the full scale invasion of the Realm Eternal will become a reality. Malekith is the New AllFather!

As for the naïve Vanirs, Kurse knows that allies discover all too often that plump fruits have lost all interest once their juice is pressed dry and drunk. He hopes Vanaheimr has a philosophical attitude at being the eternal loser.

Finally at long last, they are dragged out from their cells. Malekith is sitting on a throne standing on a platform. Just behind him, charged in chains Frigga. The ex-Queen, ex-AllMother as she is called now with some insults Thor hears and growls about.

Loki hears the same petty names being shouted at the noble Asgardian lady and carries on walking with Little One behind him. Little One who is whistling like the carefree youth he is. Behind them, the Troll who made their stay in Svartalfheimr quite the experience.

- _'Stop, Brother. This is disrespectful. Make your bow to who stands on the stage'_

The two Vanirs bow. If Frigga finds the older brother bears an odd resemblance to her black haired son, she does not show. All her concerns are for young Balder. Odin's youngest son. Who shows by a stern mien that though he is quite the child yet, he will show no fear. Fear for … what … Dark Elves? Odin's youngest looks as arrogant as if he was attending a military inspection in Asgard. Heedless of the danger his attitude may cost him later as Trolls groan how hungry they are.

By now, the two brothers are walking side by side on the open, following Sleipnir who does not seem keen to be saddled. The horse trots about and stops at the foot of Mjolnir. Seemingly fascinated by some grass he has not yet tasted and the eight-legged stallion starts very prosaically to chew on it. The troll tries to help; though from the shouts of the crowd he should rather try to consider an offer to work in a circus as a clown.

The two Vanirs raise their hands. Nothing in it. Little One walks away, pulls out some weeds and comes back with them. Trying to attract the horse. The scene is quite pastoral. Two horsemen trying to get a steed to be mounted. Sleipnir seems to be tempted…

What nobody sees is that among the armful of grass handed to Sleipnir to feast on it, Little One has added his runic rope. Loki knows; and Malekith observes the old brother seems proud of his short sibling.

- _'We are far enough. We can escape if we get rid of the guardian Kurse has tagged us with'_

_- 'We need more distraction. Sleipnir is ready… but the Troll is too close'_

In front of the stage, the axman is making sure that the edge of his axe is as sharp as it will ever be. It is not every day he has to behead two Odinsson with four Asgardian warriors. Malekith has just informed Frigga of his generosity: she will have to watch the last instants of life of her sons before being thrown into an oubliette of his dungeon.

-_ 'Sinking into oblivion… like a metaphor for Asgard's destiny'_

Frigga does not bother to answer. Balder looks at Thor, Thor looks at her and she looks away from the scaffold, straight ahead at the distance. Looking straight at the two Vanirs who try to subdue the reluctant Sleipnir.

_- 'How do you plan to obtain said distraction, little brother'_

_- 'Thor's defeat is at our feet. Tis time for you to do your part'_

_- 'I am not Loki of Asgard. I just want to go home, Brother! Because we are bro…'_

_- 'Oh!'_

Little One looks at the hammer. Loki looks at his friend; looks at his not-brother's hammer and all is can see is Thor's runes. Runes which were originally Odin's when the AllFather was but a young warrior himself. From where it stands or rather lays fall on the ground where it fell from Thor's right hand. The Dark Elves jeer and laugh. Watching the Troll running on his ugly crooked legs after the spirited stallion was a pleasant interlude. Now the show carries on. The most little of the two Vanir prisoners is trying to lift the hammer. With the success everybody imagines. And Malekith allows himself a smile. Kurse on the contrary calls a guard and wants to send more men to check on the hostages.

Thor clenches his fists while the Warriors Three stand apart from him like they were standing each on the corner of a square. The Queen soothes her youngest.

-_ 'Do not be afraid. Your brother will make everything right like the true Asgardian he has always been'_

If Thor is apparently entering in a berserker mood which is irrelevant as he is weapon less and obliged to suffer watching how Malekith is going to invade his Realm via Vanir mystical steeds, Loki and Little One have managed to saddle Sleipnir.

-_ 'We can go. You start to canter and I'll push the Troll out of the way. Once home, Malekith will never get what we promised him'_

_- 'He will and more, Loki. Vanirs never lie'_

Loki does not understand. All he can see is a golden opportunity to escape. To allow Little One to escape… because if he leaves, Frigga will be left alone and Thor… Thor needs him. He has never been so tempted to do wrong. To be evil. To give in to treason. To make everything but a lie. And he cannot. He cannot because a little Vanir has promised to help Thor and this little Vanir does not want to hear Silver-Tongue to work him out of his oath.

-_ 'You have to help Thor; you must. He is your brother._

_- 'Thor is not my brother! I was adopted'_

_- 'Eh, guys! No whispering. Hush-hush on the mutterings!_

The Troll laughs surprised to find him-self so witty.

- _'Thor is your brother. Your real brother. The hammer… the hammer wears a symbol.'_

_- 'Thor's symbol. What has this do to with our escape?'_

_- Who gave the hammer to the Thunderer but Odin! The markings on your back… they are the ones of the Hammer. You are an Asgardian'_

And all falls into places in a perfect cruel symmetry. Who but knew where to collect the abandoned Jotun baby but his father? Who but his father would be able to pass a Jotun as his half-breed son via his magic? Who is the greatest sorcerer of all but Odin and a child of him would inherit some of it? Who cannot become king of Asgard but his bastard son? Because he is a bastard. Doubly so. Farbauti has betrayed Laufey and Odin Frigga… unless Farbauti was a dumped lover... causing Gaea to divorce Odin. Odin who would marry again. This time, to the forgiving Lady Frigga.

He knows deep inside him this is the truth. Odin is his true father. A father who would rather deny, reject his son than allow a bastard to rule over Asgard… No, it cannot be that. Then why? And it strikes him. Blind, he has been blind all the time. Thor… my first born. Thor, yes: the first born. But not the first conceived. Freya was pregnant for ages and Farbauti was with child for years end. Loki is Asgard's true heir. A Jotun. A half-breed. Asgard would never tolerate this reversal in the order of the line of succession. Loki would be raised as a prince. A true prince. And maybe a prince who could inherit. But as a second son and now a third son. Relegated to the shadows as usual.

A half-breed whose height makes sense as seen born to an Asgardian father. With hair inherited from his mother and his father. Able to recognize his sire from the earliest of age and shape shift for his Aesir father. All was true and was a lie. Nothing is what it seems. Lies on lies on lies. Loki is to be used. Never to be respected. Loki is a mean, an object, but not a man. Not a son. No, never a son. A son one can be proud of. He is Odin's first failure and this sin is unforgivable.

He remembers the day he became king and how ominous were the sentences pronounced by Frigga. Like they had a hidden meaning. She could not say more. Once out of Odin's sleep, his father would speak… Oh, he spoke. Loud and clear. No, Loki.

Not stolen, but hidden. Not a relic but the unpleasant reminder of a fateful affair. He knows how… jealous he can be, has been of Thor. He knows he has inherited this doubtful quality from his mother. Was she clingy, resentful… a bother? Discarded she was, left to die abandoned in Jotunheimr. Farbauti who paid the highest price one can pay when one betrays her king and husband… Farbauti from whom he has inherited not only the hair but the looks. It is Farbauti who is calling after Father every day since Loki has been brought to Asgard…

Whatever he does is doomed to displease his father. He looks like an ex-mistress whose tragic end is to be ascribed to Odin's shabby behaviour; he was born to be the heir but was born after the second son. He is a Jotun whose skin offends Asgard. Asgard is his home and rejects him…

_- 'Loki! Hurry. Kurse is sending troopers. Thor needs his hammer.'_

_- 'You knew'_

Little One knows what Loki means. Knows that Loki Odinsson is not pleased. Far from it.

-_ 'When I read your markings, it was making no sense. I did not know … you …. We need to hurry. Otherwise I shall have to dance to my own funeral. Because I will never allow Malekith to rule the Nine Realms!'_

Damned. He is damned. Madness was sweeter than cold, harsh reality. Mad, he could not care less about his true parents. Sane and having become knowledgeable on said lineage, he learns truth can taste like poison. Thor… his brother…. No wonder the feelings felt so real and it was so cruel severing them. They were real. Everything was real, is real and Odin, his father is using him as a pawn! At least a stolen relic was a tragedy. His reality simply seems … pitiful, weak.

-_ 'Loki, please. I need your help. Please!'_

It is a very damned man who stands and who does what he has to do. He will allow the Vanir to return to his brethren. He will never be more than a blood-brother to Little One. Who knows… maybe the Vanir born to a realm to which prevarication is a way of life has from the beginning been intent to betray him, using him from the very beginning.

All liars and the look he gives to Little One is not a friendly one. Regardless, a true prince pays his debts.

-_ 'Loki, I shall come back. I swear. I will come back!_'

So he stands, his hand in Mjolnir handle while the little Vanir is now sitting on the back of the eight-legged horse. Like a little jockey trying to humour a horse who starts to trot far from the older man.

Loki looks at the horse who starts to break away further away from the Troll; looks at the soldiers who start running in the direction of the horse. He looks at Thor who is winking at him. The idiot! At his mother and she looks at him. Malekith does not understand why the ex-queen would smile proudly at a Vanir prisoner like a mo… and he seethes enraged! Balder nods in approval. And opens his mouth at the extraordinary scene. Because it is extraordinary.

The soldiers are immobile, the Troll has stopped running at the Vanir horseman whose horse by now is galloping and has started to take a curious vertical angle. This is curious yet, but not extraordinary.

What is extraordinary is that the taller Vanir after a last look to Frigga is still holding the hammer handle. He holds the hammer; looks at the sky. And says one word. One and only one word.

-_ 'Father'_


	16. Chapter 17

- _'Father!_

At the same moment a flame, a blast of pure energy bursts from the heaven and digs into the ground using Loki's body as medium. And this is not the most extraordinary event. Nor is extraordinary the fact that Odin's staff powerful bolts channelled via the Tesseract , directed by Heimdall's compass have nullified Little One's glamour spell, causing Malekith to stand up ,gaping at the scene. at long last from the throne he is sitting on.

No. Not that. What is extraordinary is that it is the Trickster himself who is standing facing the podium which was supposed to stage the Accursed glorious acceptance speech as the new power house of the World Tree. What is extraordinary is that said Lie-Smith now dressed in his usual green and gold armour is holding and… and…lifting Mjolnir like Thor and … and …is sending it hurling in the direction of Thor who seizes it and blasts everything around but the people he loves.

Loki snarls; Loki is a demon incarnate. Mad no more he is; but he wishes for the gentle anaesthesia of feelings insanity gives. What is the use of reality if it gives you despair and hate for the condition you are stuck to live? A condition you can hope to reverse when you are crazed by madness; yet a situation you know you are cursed to live till the bitter end when you are oh so sane of mind!

Odin has given back his magic to his second son. Loki has been deemed 'worthy'. If he could, he should choke on the word. Worthy… of what? To play second fiddle to Thor. To be used as a mean of another success for his older brother. He may be the first conceived… who cares? Thor is Odin's first born; Odin's preferred son. Worthy of lifting Mjolnir … once. Worthy of hurling it: once. Feeling through his body this mystical unique power: just once. Just the once.

Because he is not worthy of more.

Above far away from Svartalfheimr, Heimdall shakes his head. Loki is at it again. Unable to see that whilst Thor's power resides within Mjolnir, his own powers reside within himself. Thor has Mjolnir. True. Yet it is Loki who has inherited his father's magic. Odin's first lady love was maddeningly jealous and her son is just as bad or cursed. Loki wants to be the only one. Wants all the love of his father. A father shares equally between his sons and Heimdall sighs as he cannot comprehend why Loki is missing so much of seeing how much Odin loves him.

Odin watches. Watches as Loki's dagger flies and digs into a troll's heart . How a dozen of Lokis are causing mayhem with Kurse's soldiers.

Odin watches as Thor and his hammer cause grievous damage to Malekith's troops and shudders as he watches far, so far, too far as Malekith as the Accursed approaches with a sword raised fromhis wife and their young son.

-_ 'Erm?'_

A young soldier recently discharged from garrisoning in Svartalfheimr is coughing. The warrior has just been co-opted in the AllFather personal bodyguard corp. Proud to be now a Red Hawk, Theoric is anxious to make a good impression on his king.

- _'My Lord. Nj… I mean the Great Khan of the Vanirs wishes to inform you… he is ready…? I do not underst….'_

_-'Thank you, Theoric. We return immediately to the Palace. Get my faithful Hawks to wait for my orders. We all are in for a quite interesting ride.'_

Thor fights with his Hammer; Loki with his daggers and magic. Volstagg has used the body of a Dark Elf as a ram to enter and slice through the ranks of Elfin troops. Fandral and Hogun with Sif have recovered one a sword, one a mace and the other a long double-ended spear and each of them id happily showing that new of his and her early demise has possibly been greatly exaggerated. They only are six Asgardians against a relentless wave of Dark Elves soldiers but they should be counted sixty. Because each of them is worth ten men if not more.

_- 'Good to have you back, Loki'_

-_ 'The pleasure is not mine'_

They fight like ten, like one hundred men but they do not see how Malekith slithering like a snake hidden by the tall grass crawls like the coward he is, slowly has slowly cornered Frigga and Balder. Now is the moment and he readies to strike in one blow Odin's wife and Balder when… he stops.

And starts again. He would have sworn he has heard a noise. A vague noise, like a drumming. It must be the battle… He raises his sword and Thor sees. And Loki sees. Both brothers stop on their tracks watching in horror as the Accursed is going to kill their mother and brother … … when through the ether a drumming noise rises louder and louder; followed by a long, thin arrow accompanied of her two sisters embed themselve into Malekith's raised hand, raised forearm and raised shoulder.

The noise now is deafening. It is a drum. So much is true. There is nothing else to be seen. Except Malekith who retreats trying to hide from the sky.

A drum which has not been heard since… since the Aesir-Vanir War. The Vanir war-drum with old men who have survived hearing it once try and hide from hearing it again.

Kurse leads the waves which try to break the line held by the Asgardians. Frigga and Balder are in the middle on the circle formed by Thor, Loki and the Warriors Three with the Lady Sif. Unlike Malekith who is not so brilliant when his hopes are shattered by adversity, Kurse keeps a cool head and knows that at one point one Asgardian resolve will somehow be broken, will fall and victory can still remain in Svartalfheimr's camp.

Malekith leads and encourages his troops on one side of the circle; Kurse does the same on the other side. Nothing seems to have followed from the triple arrow. As such, Elfin hopes rise again.

To be broken because the sky is also breaking in hundreds of places. Rainbow flashes appear and rip the light apart to live place to hundreds of horses. Spider horses whose cavaliers are Vanirs but also Asgardians. It does not rains but it pours from the sky, galloping eight-legged horses. The Vanir cavalry is back!

Malekith's grandiose plan peters out like a damp squib.

This is not to say Dark Elves are cowards and they fight. Knowing they will lose, they fight for something better than victory. They fight for a place, a rightfully owned seat in Valhalla. Also they plan to take with them as many companions of infortune as they can.

Odin's horse jumps also from the sky along a Vanir warrior. If Odin is old, the Vanir or Vane as they call themselves is older. Odin wears the AllFather's helmet like Njord wears the conical Vane cap with an up-turn brim vaguely reminiscent of Hogun's own helmet. Here one can see that Hogun's is but a poor replica of the original.

Vanirs and Asgardians alike compete at whom will bring more guests to Valhalla's vast halls. Spears, double edged swords , every weapon known is calling for blood to be spilled. The Red Hawks led by Theoric fight like lions.

Still Malekith holds. Until he hears or rather sees Njord calling for his horse dancers… and they come.

Lighter, younger, slimmer eight-legged horses with lighter horsemen. Horsemen who are but one extension of the horse and whose arrows fired from triple bows are slaying slice after slice of his troops. Horsemen who armed but by one single dagger are sitting, standing, jumping from horse to horse in a singular ballet of death. Never these dancers set foot on the ground. They seem to fly from a saddle to a shoulder, to another saddle, each time taking with them the flower of life of their enemy.

Light-footed, life-reaping dancers. The Vanir dancing horsemen. A legend Asgard has heard off. A legend until now as Theoric sighs of relief that the Aesir-Vane war is over. That it is not Asgard who is at the receiving end of the Vane Cavalry. A reality by which Njord proclaims loud and clear that his realm is not to be discounted from the game of thrones played by each branch of the World Tree.

Kurse has managed to penetrate through the circle while Sif was watching the dancers. A moment of inattention of which price is going to be dear. Kurse's axe is almost touching Balder skull when a dagger coming from nowhere though it belongs to a horse dancer stops the onslaught. The battle is won.

Kurse is dead. A noble death. He fought along his troops; tonight along his soldiers, his soul will be greeted by an enormous feast in Valhalla. Malekith is still alive. No shame in that. Running, tail between his legs. Now this is shameful. Vast numbers of his army are wounded, dead. A noble leader would, should be dead or wounded like them. A noble responsible ruler would stand among them, prisoner like them. Would not have abandoned them to the just anger felt by Njord and Odin.

The dancer, the short dancer it must be said, would like to return to his saddle but for a handgrip of iron.

- _'You, stay here. I know you. Vanir rebel. Mischief maker. You and your friend have been making a nuisance of your sorry selves with our garrisons in Vanaheimr'_

_- 'Leave it Theoric. I can vouch for this little man.'_

Thor bursts into laughter at looking at the red-faced angry Vanir whilst a bewildered Theoric leaves the scene, muttering darkly at princes befriending acknowledged rebels; Loki's already foul mood has darkened even more so.

-_ 'Dancing horsemen! Eh, it makes sense you would be light in weight and height. I bow to you, Death Dancer.'_

_- 'Height has nothing to do with courage, Prince Thor. I am just doing what is needed.'_

Queen Frigga, just as regal as if she was holding court to her great ladies in Asgard bows to the two kings.

- _'My Lords!'_

Odin dismounts from Sleipnir and walks toward his sons. Lifting his hand, he calls at his side his lovely Queen and tousles the hair of Balder.

- _'A day of retribution. Where enemies of Asgard get their due and each of my sons gets his'_

_- 'Indeed'_

Njord may be not as tall as Odin; what he lacks in inches, he certainly does not lack in majesty. His hair is as white as snow while Odin still has glints of steel. He removes his conical cap; by now one can see the double entwined strand coronet sitting on his head.

- ' _Soooo... This is your brood… It may do. A bit excitable. Some puppy fat will have to go. Too high-strung for my taste; then nobody asks for my opinion. Not that they would pay attention to it.'_

To say that the candid assessment of the princes Thor, Balder and Loki is welcomed by the Asgardian troops and said young men is a matter of interpretation. Thor is … thundering, Balder pouts and Loki… Loki is as thunderous as Thor if not more.

Theoric the Red Hawk knows his duty. Njord, the Vanir Great Khan seems keen to build bridges of peace with the AllFather. Good, because Theoric knows just what to do to make sure said bridges stay strong.

-_ 'My Lords. Among the … very courageous Vanir…friends who fought along our side, I have recognized a … a member of a group of youths who have been making…. A nuisance… who have been… yes him!'_

Little One is seen walking behind the Vanir King. Theoric points at him, like a teacher points at a pupil who is up to no good.

-_ 'That's him, my Lords. The infernal brat had the impudence lat….'_

-_ 'Little One, I believe this soldier means you'_

_- 'I believe so, my Lord.'_

Njord is not happy. But for different reasons. A vast array of reasons different from Theoric. The Khan carries on unmindful of the Red Hawk. Just like an eagle finds below his notice the shadow of a sprrow on his spreaded wings.

- _'The flight of your three arrows was mediocre. The shoulder one was debatable; the forearm one was … acceptable. As for …'_

Little One flinches. Njord does not raise his voice unlike Odin. He simply uses words which sting.

- _'The last one was …'_

Little One is kneeling now, head down.

- _'The last one was… interesting. You will have to show me. ..'_

Little One raises the head, an impish smile on his lips.

_- '… once you have finished training with the spear. Your lance throwing made me weep… Have you no shame, child?''_

_- 'I'll do better. Next time…. Grandfather.'_

- _'Odin Khan, it seems our heirs are in league to shorten our lives; all rebels believing they know better than us.'_

Theoric is beet-root, planted in the ground by shame. He has about caused the diplomatic incident of the millennia. When at long last Aesirs and Vanirs are ready to speak to each other seemingly to enter into a peaceful relationship and maybe friendship, he is trying to get arrested the famous Heir of the Vanirs. Arresting a Crown Prince of a Realm will certainly earn him fame; yet it is well supposed that a blunder of this amplitude will qualify him as in 'asinineTheoric'.

Loki is not surprised unlike Thor. The Warriors Three and Sif are not surprised either or do not look to be; Thor's vagaries have long taught them Princes of the Realms can be … err… atypical. Thor towers the diminutive Vanir Prince and both will be kings. The sharp look of disdain they each inherit from Little One tells them the peace treaty is far from having been signed. They bow to the Prince; but they are not duped by his supposed insouciance.

- _'Today was a day of union between our two realms. Njord Khan, our people could become one. Together, we could make safe and sure each branch of Yggdrasil … , erm, each branch… … of each tree could be at peace with one another. Vanes and Aesirs united. … Tyrants like Malekith would hesitate twice…'_

Njord is not interested by Odin or by his speech. Of all the things the old Khan wants now is to be home in his yurt, drinking Vanir Ale and making sure his quick-silver heir is safe not far from his watchful care.

- _'No more daredevilry, young one. I will not tolerate your scandalous romp in Asgard twice'_

Vanir lords? … chieftains? … come leading Sleipnir and a smaller horse, a mare for their King and his grandson.

- _'Time to go home, Little One. Make your bow to Asgard's best.'_

-_ 'AllFather.'_

Little One bow is stiff

- _'Prince Thor.'_

Another bow. Followed by a vague lowering of the eyelids for the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif. There is no love lost here between them.

- _'Prince Loki.'_

A final deeper bow. A sincere one. And a hesitation . Like if the Vanir princeling was expecting something from Loki which does not come. A hesitance and the Vanir youth dares.

- _'Just remember. Vanaheimr can be your home. If you want to…'_

Loki frowns, Loki broods. Loki does not bother to answer.

Another stiff bow to Frigga and Balder. The Vanir king is already leaving and he takes with him the Spider Horses which have carried the Asgardians. Little One climbs on Sleipnir, looks again at Loki. Sighs and follows his grandfather through the now opening rainbow portals.

-_ 'Father, how are we to return to Asgard?'_

_- 'Njord has given us enough Dark Energy as to repair completely the Bifrost. Today Thor, we shall walk on a new Rainbow Bridge. I am proud of you, my First-Born … Loki, befriending the future king of Vanaheimr was a mastercoup. What are you mumbling?'_

- _'Laufeyson. My name is Laufeyson.'_


	17. Chapter 18

Vanaheimr, earlier.

_- 'We cannot allow Malekith Bey to become Sultan... . He is Unworthy Of the responsibility... I cannot bring myself to imagine him becoming AllF... I will not sully His Sacred Name'_

-_ 'Because you are… worthy? Because your mother was called Gersimi, my Dear son's own treasure?'_

Little One pleads. Pleads against what he has pleaded for years end. Not long ago, he was a fire-eater, a pint-sized hot-head advocating the ransacking of the ignominious Asgardian garrisons doting here and there the Vane plains. A rebel with a cause who openly considered the cautious dealings of his Khan as signs of defeatism.

- _'One day, Odin Khan is our enemy. After a trip which you could have spared yourself if you had accepted the judgement of the Runes Bones, his sons become our staunchest allies. Allow your old man to find such change of heart slightly ironical if I did not know more about it!'_

Under the Great Yurt, surrounded by Viziers and counsellors about the same age of their King, Little One cut a very youthful picture. Only red head, only touch of colour in a sea of white and bald heads.

Today is Divan Day. Today, the Great Khan entertains his High Council and today as lately Little One is at logger heads with the old court. And suffers the worst tyranny ever. The tyranny of affection.

Sole surviving precious bud of a decimated once plentiful tree, Little One has been the cherished and unique grandchild of the Khan. Of the Clan, the Tribe, the Golden Herd of the Vanir People. The whole wide Vanir realm.

Lavished with unending affection. But not spoiled. Certainly not spoiled. As his inches grew, so grew the never stopping list of expectations of his grandfather.

- _'A good Khan is patient. A wise Khan waits for the right opportunity to strike as not to waste the spring of Vanir blood. A careful prince sees that his people receive a fair share of AllMother and AllFather' bountiful creation. Blessed be their Divine Mating!'_

Good Kings, wise kings… Each having a say on Little One education. Each adding to the many, many burdens left to be carried on such young shoulders. Love was not spared, not discussed. Never rationed. Yet the list was never complete with more irrepressible requests of behaviours, unrealistic expectations of perfection on a child. If the first word said by Little One has been a badly pronounced grandfather, the second one has been duty. Little One is a Prince, but he is a slave to the duties attending to the function of being the next Vanir King…

The doubly orphaned grandchild was raised between an attentive and caring grandfather and a host of doting governesses. Njord may have been a widower; but a bachelor he was not. So gentle ladies and caring maids came and went. Bringing a female loving hand to the education of the Heir of the Vanir...

Njord loves his Little One.

-_ 'I will listen to your plea; I do not promise I will enter into it.'_

-_ 'Lord Thor is a force of Nature; full of the strength of AllFather. Our AllFather. Lord Balder is as gentle as Frigga Sultana. I cannot accept such noble lady to be left at the hands of the Accursed. My friends and I…'_

- _'Here we are. My friends and I… I suppose by friends you mean the band of ignorant fools about as old as you, who are playing tricks on our … guests.'_

_- 'They are not our guests. They are invaders, imposing their presence. Defacing AllMother Temple. Endangering her Precious Blood, her Ever-Lasting Energy._'

The old King plays with his moustache. Plays with his grandson too.

- _'Like Malekith. No difference here.'_

_- 'Allow me to point the difference. Odin Khan could have twisted our arm. He has accepted our choice to deny him full access. Just a few drops. And that was it. Malekith wants to plunder our Mines. Wants our Spider horses. Wants everything without any exchange. Without any trade in return.'_

Malekith wants everything. So much is true. The Mines will be depleted. AllMother will be barren soon if he ever rules The Realm Eternal. The delicate balance between the Dreamers who are the Vanirs and the Aesir Builders will be destroyed. The World Tree of Yggdrasil is in danger.

-_ 'Really, Grand Khan. Grand Father, please hear me. We cannot stand aloof. Besides I am honour bound to protect the Weak. I will not allow Frigga Sultana to be the recipient of more insults than this noble woman has already suffered from.'_

_- 'A good champion generally lists progressively each of his stronger arguments ending by the most meaningful. We have heard of Noble Thor and the protection of AllMother's Dark Energy. We have listened to the drama se't for Yggdrasil and Odin's wife and child. I am yet to hear about your best, your strongest point…_

_- 'Erm… Lok…Lord Loki. Loki has taken badly to the information he is a true Odinsson.'_

Grandfather King does not see what this rather boring piece of genealogical interest has to do with Queen Frigga or Thor or AllMother Blood. Lord Loki has been a most precious friend; a kind and good friend who has generously forfeited his own life to protect him from a bullet shot from the new-fangled gun sported by the Dark Elves. Which proves again how unworthy they are. Guns? Where are noble swords, elegant arrows left to stand if Vanes, Asgardians and all the decent realms start to behave like Midgardians...?

- _'Could you elaborate my fine Heir?'_

_- 'Plainly speaking, he saved my sorry ar...my silly life. He was a wise counsellor. And a ... a protector. Much against my grain. But he... he is my blood brother!. Yes, a Vanir Prince is considering ... Yes, I am honoured that Lie-Smith is my blood-brother. To put it mildly, if you do not want to help Loki and his Asgardian friends, I shall be true to my honour and will raise my troop of fools. We may not be worthy of your Cavalry yet. But we are the best Horse Dancers you will ever have!'_

_- 'This is not an argument. I want better. I want a clincher. Why should I help you get out of your own fine mess?'_

_- ..._

_- 'Well?'_

_- 'I accept the ruling of the Bones Runes. I have read the Dark mirror, its reflection was clear.'_

There will be no turning back. If Little One accepts what was written before and will forever be by entering into a Cycle; then he accepts the Light and the Dark, he allows Life and Death to rule through him.

- _'I allow it. There is no coming back. … I do so wish it. And I wish I had accepted it earlier!_

The old King kneels the first to the youth, followed by all the viziers and the guards. All pronounce with the same fervour the same thanksgiving prayer.

-_ 'Blessed are Chaos and Order who through AllFather and AllMother divine mating give birth to Life and Death. Blessed be the Divine Twins who despite their cruel fate protect our worlds and the Forest of the Universe Trees. Never ending, never beginning. Let a new Cycle enter the scene. To end the beginning and begin the ending.'_

Little One comes and helps his old man to rise up. Why should her King kneel to him is a mystery. But so be it. Njord can see the future just as sharply defined as Odin does.

- _'And now, young man. Please throw the Green Spear of hope on the walls of the nearest Asgardian garrison. Odin Khan must be wondering what took us so long. As for your wedding, your betrothed has waited long enough.'_

Asgard, later

- _'Heimdall has informed me he can only answer to you regarding Loki's whereabouts!'_

_- 'The Bifrost Keeper was right, my son.'_

Thor does not understand. Understand at all. Since his daring narrow escape from Svartalfheimr, Loki has simply disappeared. At first it was feared that Loki the Mad Prince as he is now known in the realm Eternal was going to lead a war against the AllFather via his supposed alliance with the Heir of the Vanirs. Befriending the youth has been indeed a brilliant carefully executed plan. Njord Khan is old, reported senile.

What is worse? The Vanir Kingdom effectively led by feeble hands or an inexperienced head full of enthusiastic tomorrows? Asgard has readied itself for war. Every day Einherjars, Red Hawks have been patrolling watching for arrows coming from nowhere, light portals opening to savage and wild horsemen mounted on robust Spider Steeds. But One Sleipnir is not enough to counter his equine eight- legged friends.

Nothing has come. The horse herders have carried on the calm lives, taking care of their cattle, their seas. Enjoying some shape shifting mischief naturally but nothing has come worth a mention, a single line of concern in the numerous reports written by Asgardian troops stationed as vanguard against the Vanir expedition.

The front line is quiet. Bored is the word. The rare Vanes they get in contact with are more pre-occupied about the coming nuptials of their prince than by a full-blown war with the Realm Eternal.

Fandral comments that the world is coming to a sorry end when babies start planning to fill their own nurseries with younger babies. Hogun snorts. While Volstagg does not approve of child brides and Sif certainly does not approve of more impertinent princelings. Asgard suddenly develops a taste for Vanir fashion. The colourful and newly appointed Vanir ambassador to Odin's realm is the toast of all the banquets.

To the point Thor complains he cannot turn up to any feats without having to chat to the bloody fellow. It is not that the man is uncouth or unpleasant; the problem is that he is massively... erm... Vanir. Ladies adore his insinuating ways. Their husbands at first worried, love his simplicity. Because the only thing the Vane really wants is to ... shop. And shop he does.

Bridal this and bridal that. Prince this and prince that. Nuptial here and nuptial there. Njord Khan has but one grandchild and he wants to give said Heir the wedding of the century, the millennia, the million of years! It must be sumptuous.

Milliners, armouries, wine makers, pottery of the finest art, all what money can buy find a way to his hall and the ambassador is shopping, buying, seen wrapping more and more packages and using without shame Heimdall services to forward said boxes, containers to his native realm.

It would be a lovely ending to the long story of missed opportunities and distrust between the two realms if Thor was not reminded that somebody is missing. Loki would poke fun at the very rotund, short and verbose ambassador. Loki would comment that Wars would have been averted if Vanaheimr had made it known that their plan of invasion was limited to food stores and street markets. Not that it is wrong to see fine silk and elegant handmade lace replacing swords and stern warriors...

Loki. Where is Loki? The last time he was seen, he was running behind Little One going to? At first everybody had thought: Vanaheimr. Heimdall has looked, watched and scanned. Then scanned, watched and looked again. The Vanirs are not at war. When he can see the rude little prince, he is busy talking with his Viziers on the seriousness of his suit and what will be expected from him once he has a spouse!

Little One was not joking about his mysterious un-named betrothed. A marriage is planned. And Loki is nowhere to be seen. Not In Vanaheimr. Not in Jotunheimr where the locals are eager to put their icy hands on him. Jotuns have possibly, ever so slightly lost any interest regarding Midgard; they are more than ready to kill the villain who, through silky, deceptive, lying words led to his death their most kind King Laufey.

Loki is not to be found with any Elf of any persuasion; not with the Dwarves, not with the Fire Giants. He is not hiding as a scout or a trapper, a fur hunter or one of the wild lost souls and outlaws at the edge of realms, who survive by killing bilge snipes and selling its precious ivory.

Midgard has been informed. Midgard had to be informed. Midgard has not been happy after being informed. Midgard, the dismal little planet whose inhabitants are looked as inferiors, apes, and imbeciles has taken quite badly Loki's escape from his father's dungeon. Loki at large in a kingdom ruled by a would-be tyrant has drawn nervous coughs; Loki restored full magical powers get raised eyebrows.

Loki's unknown whereabouts has sent SHIELD agents into frenzy. When it becomes obvious Loki has not set foot on Midgard, Tony Stark laments on the irreclaimability of notorious criminals.

- _'Reindeer avoiding Earth. Sounds like Daddy read the riot act. If we find your baby brother, we shall play dry nurse and send him back home free of charge as long as he does not break the fine bone china tea cups. .'_

Upon being told his brother may have found a safe haven in a realm now known for its pastoral placidity has sent the archer into a cold rage.

- _'This ...man... He is not a God. This mass murderer is going to kill innocent peaceful herders. Something must be done'_

It must be said that when Barton is told the gentle herders could kill three men with one arrow, could slit throats to ten other ones while himself is still trying to draw his bow, his protective stance has dropped down a few notches.

Thor would like to hear from his brother. No news is good news, they say. Heimdall does not see him but knows Loki is somewhere on one of the branches of Yggdrasil and doing no mischief or loss little that really one should say he is keeping the line.

Frigga is happy. Balder now has been officially introduced to Asgard and ... Odin has been induced to inform Thor of his past conjugal incident. The Thunderer has paradoxically taken quite well to the notion his mother has abandoned him as a babe.

If Gaea as she wants to be known is unnatural enough to dump her own innocent child as in putting the blame on baby Thor, she is not worth being called a mother. Mother Earth? This woman? Earth deserves a better goddess; motherhood deserves a better suited divinity. Asgard happens to have the best mother ever, who happens to be the woman he has called mother from the first word he has uttered as an infant. Frigga is his mother. He has no problem about it. Now that he knows that in an incomplete way, he is also sort of adopted, he plans to explain to Loki he is not alone. It is not being not told one parent has failed you, it is the love one gives and one gets by the wonderful people who willingly decide they will be your family!

- _'About family, Thor, you are invited to attend a wedding in Vanaheimr. You are to be best man to the groom'_

_- 'Father, I was hoping to visit Earth ... and Jane.'_

_- 'Njord has an heir ready to do what it takes for his kingdom. The child will marry the Heir. They say she is quite pretty. Vivacious is the word. We have entered now in a peaceful amicable relationship with Vanaheimr. Njord Khan would take it amiss if Asgard Heir was not present for the Nuptials of the Heir of the Vanirs.'_

_- 'A union of children or about children... Father, please. It is not that I want to be rude to Little One though he should deserve to be smacked for the way he talks to my friends but ...'_

The Asgardian King pursues merciless, shattering his first-born hopes. Little One does what must be done. Thor should follow such an example. A prince for a princess. A Vanir for a spouse with Vanir blood... A marriage between equals. Equals.

-_ 'My love for Jane is real.'_

_-' Kings make sacrifice for the greater good. Never will I ... never will Asgard accept for its Queen a Midgardian. Unless she is born from Midgardian Royal bloodline. When mortals will finally unite under one rule...when they finally understand what your brother so wrongly tried to explain and obtain... then I will relent. Not before.'_

Odin does not approve of Midgardian politics, of corrupted officials, shady deals obtained in backrooms. Democracy is too often the mask of lies... A good momarch is a loving father to his subjects. Firm yet rewarding. Thor is glad Nick Fury and Captain Rogers are not listening.

- _'AllFather, you know this is not to be. Midgard is divided between nations, tribes, federations. They can barely angry among themselves...'_

_- 'Proving they are not yet fit to be more than mere mortals. Immortality is a reward, Thor. Not a curse. The longer you flatter yourself ... and your lover that you can change the rules; you can only but hurt her and yourself!'_

_- 'Father!'_

_-' This is my word. Prepare your trip. Theoric, my new Hawk will come with you. He was previously allocated to our ... peace-keeping troops. He will be useful as to explain the particularities of a Vanir wedding'_

...

Thor gasps, fear in his eyes.

-_ 'Am I to attend to the nine stages... including...?'_

Swallowing hard...

-_ 'The shape shifting ones?'_

-_' No! ...No. The horse race, the flight of the falcons, the dancing salmons. All these rather ... erm ... awkward parts are strictly for Vanirs to be attended by. Plus they are naked as they change from one form to another. I would believe the groom however liberal these people are, would take badly if Asgardian eyes would be seen scanning his bride's breasts and hips!'_

Thor feels better. Still he would prefer to have the Warriors Three and his dear friend Sif than Theoric.

-_ 'Fandral, Sif ... the all of them is not invited. Apparently, the groom does not like them at all. I wonder why? Anyhow, you are to represent Asgard. Be like a brother to the Prince ... and the Princess. I plan to have her being offered the dignity of a goddess.'_

_- 'Njord...'_

Njord Khan will not refuse the gift. To become a goddess is the highest reward Odin can bestow on a person he judges worthy of the calling. Whoever is Little One's betrothed, to be deemed worthy to become a goddess suggests Odin knows more and approves whole-heartedly of her.

Thor ends up thinking that Odin, his own father is more interested by a Vanir anonymous if worthy child bride than the whereabouts of his second son and it grieves him a lot. So he tries again

-_ 'Loki... I will go and look for him on all the realms. I will not stop for Jane if I have to visit Midgard again. I...'_

_- 'Enough, Thor. You have been given your orders... By the way tell the Prince that your mother and I would count ourselves as honoured if, after his honeymoon, he would visit us.'_

Thor leaves seething. Damned be Little One and his wife to be. May their honeymoon be bitter and ... ah Loki. If Loki was there, he would have found a way to make the visit of the newlyweds in Asgard quite unforgettable. Mischief can be good... sometimes!


	18. Chapter 19

Vanaheimr, now. After the victory over Malekith.

Was it yesterday or the day before when all started to unravel? When Fa… AllF…Odin unless it is Father… because it has been Father all along…

It is … Is it … when was it? It started so simply. Here and there, like little stones left on a path for one to follow. Things which were not right. Little bit skewed. Things which started to hurt. Feeling … odd, different. Not attended to. Not cared for. Knowing for sure Father preferred Thor. Not understanding why. What had he done to deserve this punishment? Because he must have been doing something wrong. Something awfully wrong. Growing feeling left apart, left on a shelf. Un-needed, un-useful. Left to grow apart.. Rejected. Not heard, not seen.

Having always to play second fiddle. This on the lucky days. Having to rely on his elder brother to provide the necessary encouragement to carry on … living. The unworthy son. As for Frig… Mot…, the woman he cannot call Mother though he wishes to. He wishes so much he could. Yet cannot. Mother who was so eager to visit her friends. So sad when she was coming back. How inattentive he has been?

The Lady Frigga… The wonderfully good and generous Lady Frigga. The Mother he cannot call a Mother is the woman who has been what a real parent should be. She has been fair. Fair in praises and fair in rewarding Justice. The two brothers who are not brothers because they are half-brothers so brothers they should be… the brothers were always treated as equals. Grew up as equals. Seen as equals… Equals who are not. What do they have in common? The Odin's princelings. The royal children. Prince Thor and Loki … Loki not of Asgard. Loki of Nothing… Loki is Nothing.

Thor's mother has abandoned him, Loki's mother is dead. Jord was an Asgardian turned into a Vanir priestess. Farbauti was unfaithful and of Jotun royal lineage. How can they be equal? Loki is born to a King and a woman who could have been Queen of her very own right! Loki is born to be a King. This is why he should have been the Chosen One. It is his birth right! He is born to become a king! He was born to be a king!

King… King? Who is king? Who is going to be king? … Not him. No, not him. … Thor, it must be Thor. Yes, it must be Thor. Thor is going to become king. To be crowned today. Today is Thor's coronation. Is it today? Or yesterday? Thor is not fit. He must show to Father how woefully unfit, unprepared is Thor. He is doing this because he loves Thor. It is unfair to burden his brother's shoulders with a responsibility the man who wields Mjolnir has no idea about. Not that Loki is more prepared in that stance. At least Loki knows he is unfit. But not Thor.

-_ 'Thor…'_

Daggers fly to and from his hands like eagles about to crush pitilessly preys under their talons.

Poor Thor surrounded by courtiers, complacent mistresses, fawning friends… False friends. Like the pitiful so called Warriors Three. Why not the Three Fellows, Friends …. Fools? If Fandral plans to achieve military glory by sleeping with half of Asgard population save the Queen, he is mistaken. Won battles on bed sheets do not count. As for Hogun, being a mute does not get you anywhere. Loki maybe Silver-Tongue and lie-Smith … thank you Volstagg. At least, he fights real battles, says really witty things and if he lies, it is because people prefer softly-spoken lies to rude truths. Hogun who has not one jot of sense of humour as for Hogun, he has not one ounce of personal thoughts.

For Sif. Sif… Sif who is pre-occupied to make sure she becomes so much a staple in Thor's daily routine she will simply slip from the training grounds to his bed. Sif thinks herself smart and aims to become the next Queen... Sorry, dear. Loki's brother is not for you. Loki is not for you. Sif is full of ambitions. But she is going to find that the Princes of Asgard are not for her. Because this is the problem with Sif. She wants the Crown for the moment she becomes Thor's consort. After that… What next? Sif will get bored. Thor is full of wonderful qualities, and an adorable innocence. Thor deserves better than an ambitious wife. A faithful one comes to mind. Loki feels the moment will come when Sif gets so bored she will start looking elsewhere for a funnier, smarter company … friend … bedfellow. She better not cheats on Thor. Loki will not tolerate it. If needs be, he will cut her hair and show her for the adulteress she is…

Adulteress… who is cuckolding who? Laufey? Why the Jotun King? The blasted Jotun has been widowed for… for ages. Certainly for as long as Loki has been born… Laufey. Laufey whose two soldiers have been tempted to steal the Casket of Winters. Yes, they are coming; they are going to… they were going to… To do what? What are they going to do? They are two guards who are patrolling in front of the vault's doors. Two guards. They have promised to spare the guards. They have promised. The Casket against …

Loki has such a headache. He cannot think straight. All is spiralling. He is losing it… Losing, losing. Everything spins, spins. Falling, falling. Falling away from Father. Seeing but not hearing Thor's anguished shout for help. No, Loki. No, do not let go. No, brother. Do not do that. Do not let go. Please, do not let go…

Loki is falling. Falling again. Crucified by his father. The ultimate rejection. Father who has always shown that it is Thor. My first-born. His first-born. His second born does not count. Has no value, no interest. No worth. Just a relic. Just an accident. Not wanted. Not desired. Not loved. Father does not love him. Has never loved him… Never wanted him. Never even accepted him. Better him believe he was adopted than accepting this runt born from his divine loins…

Mother… Mother… Mother loves him. He thinks; he does not know. If he has no father being so loudly rejected, he has two mothers. But two mothers do not replace the love of a father. Frigga loves him. Yes, such he knows. But Farbauti…. Mother, why do you cry? Mother, why do you leave me? Mother, where are you going? Mother, it is cold, so cold. I am so alone, so little. So frail… Please, somebody, anybody. Mother! Mother!

- _'Mother…'_

Loki shakes his head and carries on fighting along Thor. Fighting the Dark Elves in reality, though all he can see are his own dark inner demons.

Mother… Is it the original sin, the primary fracture when his mind was so drastically wounded by the abandonment of a new born baby that later, much later a young man would become utterly, irretrievably mad? Father… Father. Cruel bastard of a father! Cheater of wife, stealer of wife! Odin who cheats on Jord… or not. But Odin who knows what he is doing when he goes after Farbauti. When he beds Farbauti, when he leaves his seed for Farbauti to grow with child… Why Father, why? Why a Jotun? Why this monstrous mother? Why this mother of a monster? Why is he here? What is the use of this parentage? He is a monster. A mistake, an error. A failed genetic experiment. A relic. Not stolen. A relic of a failure none the less. Farbauti has left him. He is a monster. Unworthy of a father and a mother's love!

Farbauti… Mother … Why did you leave me? Why? You knew I was Odin's son. You knew enough to get him out of Laufey's Hall. You knew my markings would flag me as an Asgardian bastard. You saved me … but you came back to Laufey. Why didn't you stay hidden in the temple where you had signalled as the place where you would meet your lover? Why haven't you waited for Father? Farbauti must have been mad, suicidal. Laufey was not going to tolerate such breach in her marriage vows! Either Farbauti wished for death. Courted death as she was flaunting her husband's betrayal? Or she rejected her son. She rejected Loki. Loki had to die. Abandoned by his mother who must have hated Odin; who wanted to reconcile with Laufey. Who was ready to sacrifice this misdeed, this resounding defeat. Better the child die than lose the Jotun Queen-ship. All the options of this corner stone of his life are run out leaving him with the certitude he was left to die. Odin must have come, wondering what the blasted woman wanted of him. Found his tiny son and must have guessed the rest. After that, he has left Loki with his new bride Frigga … as a toy to play with for little Thor. So much for equality between the brothers. Frigga…Mother did her best to love both boys; a loving mother does not replace an absentee father…

- _'Father…'_

His dagger enters viciously the chest of the Troll in front of him.

No wonder he has always felt side-lined. His father had never planned on having to have to raised him, take care of him. Whatever great plan Odin and Farbauti had about unifying the Realm Eternal and Jotunheimr; said plan was dead and buried before Farbauti ended up her long gestation. No Father, a child who would show her lapse of virtue and Laufey's misfortune… Did she hope to mollify her husband or was she stupid enough to believe she could induce him to grant her full access to the Jotun Throne? Laufey was right! Laufey had to kill his misbehaving spouse! Laufey should have been his father! His real father and Loki imagines a world where Laufey would have hold him high in his arms and let him touch the sky! If this had been, Loki would have killed straight away anybody daring to threaten his sire. Loki Laufeyson would have been his name. Not Odinson. Not, never Odinson. Laufey deserves his love. Not Odin.

_- 'Laufeyson. Loki Laufeyson'_

His mind sees things, gets more and more confused. Things which do not exist. Aberrations. Monstrosities. Things which should not be. Things which offend the eye and make the heart falter, the stomach sick. He sees Thanos and the Other. He remembers what they have done to him. All which was done to him. Before they realized that their 'pet', the 'toy' which whom they were 'playing' was an Asgardian Prince. By then it was too late. The suicidal youth who had let go of the staff was by totally stark mad. Mad well beyond the point of any hope of a partial recovery.

After all the torture, then … what? Then Earth. If what happened on Thanos's rock is too confusing to be remembered and he is blessing post –traumatic amnesia, what happened on Earth he sort of remembers. How he arrived on Earth and almost fell if the archer had not held him up. He is God, by the Nine realms! He is a God and he needs a mere mortal to help him. After … He remembers a place… a crowd. They all sing and he says 'Kneel' while an old man looks at him with a third eye? Next thing he knows, he is in a …'plain'…'plane'? Some flying device invented by Midgard and after that he is with Thor on a mountain entering by a secret hallway a prison made of glass. … A woman. A pretty woman. Not. A Midgardian version of Sif with red hair. He likes red hair. Not this woman, though. He likes fire. Explosions. A sinking flying ship and flying in the air in a city eaten by fear. Fear of his mind dissolving so much he has no choice but accept to trick everybody Thanos included and be left alone at his own devices with the Green Monster. It hurts; it hurts so much but it is not ergi. He is free at last from Thanos. At what cost? Such a cost… such a red ledger. It will always remain stained.

He is a monster, an abomination. It must stop. He is a beast. A true mindless beast. Which hates itself. Which wants to consummate itself. To kill itself to never be. This must stop. If the beast has to destroy the Universe, the World Tree, it will. The monster must be annihilated. Reduced to nothingness. To Nothing. Loki is nothing. Nothing.

He is cursed. Cursed. CURSED!

Everything spins in his mind. Why? Why is why? Where is he? Who is this man with a hammer? How can Asgardian warriors be in Svartalfheim? The three men and the dark hair women with a ponytail. There are traitors! … The Bifrost has been broken to pieces by Thor… Why is his bro… his not-his-brother looking at him with sorrowful eyes? What he sees is that Odin is signalling something to… to… what is his name… the fool, the impertinent popinjay who wanted to arrest twice Little…. Little Something. The….Theoric… yes Theoric. What does Theoric want with him? A battle of wits? This appalling idiot will lose. Not…

Not, because Loki sees what Theoric holds in his hands. A muzzle. A muzzle for rabid dogs. A dog… an animal to cull, to put down. He is no dog. He is a God! He is a God. No, he is mortal. Just as mortal as the ants of Midgard. Except, it talks a lot more and a lot longer to kill him. Even Thanos eventually had to give up trying. And try he did… He still sees, still feels, still remembers what was done to him and how he begged, he begged them to stop. Stop, please. Stop, I'll do anything but stop. Stop it… If Thor knew… the shame, the unbearable shame. Argr…Ergi. He is sick of it; sick of the memory. It must stop, it must end. It is pounding on his head and Theoric is pushed, repulsed away. The muzzle falls and it is Thor who is holding it. Trying to soothe the mad man, the cunning man with false soothing words…

False words. Lying words. Lies… lies? It is all right to lie. To protect oneself, to defend oneself from all the monsters which are around him. Trying to tear apart his soul. Lies spinning around him. Nightmares. Children so afraid… all is a lie, a monstrous lie. Thor tries to put the muzzle on and he pushes away Thor with a brutality one would not think his lean frame to be capable of.

He must fend for himself. He must fight. Push away the nightmare. Defend… A weapon. He needs a weapon. A dagger… he has a dagger still somewhere. He digs in his pocket and finds … nothing. Nothing? … Nothing but a curious braided, hand woven plait of tall grass. A lovely hand woven plait, brim-ful of magic. Magic unworthy of him. Why would he keep this in his pocket? He is a sorcerer. A mighty sorcerer. This is but a child's magical toy… a toy… a child.

A red head child! Little One! The curly Vanir … yes. Nice Vanir, Nice friend. Friend, who does not lie, does not hurt. Lies… Wait a minute. Truth hurts. Truth is painful. Truth is sending Loki's mind into frenzy. Lies make sure nobody hears or sees the monster. Suffer the nightmares. Ruth has freed the monster. Bad Truth. Bad hurting truth. The monster is angry.

So angry he snaps the braid; he wants to destroy everything which has to do with the pain. He is a monster and he does not like being reminded he is one. If he could, he would crush the windpipe of the people who hurt him, taunt him. People who remind him he is a monster… Like Little One.

On this side of Vanaheimr, a youth is sulking…

Forbidden to meet his friends. No more gallivanting in Asgard, no more playing pranks at Asgardians.

But more duties, more responsibilities. Now, in a few days, Little One is supposed to get married. He dreads the day. He has sworn, he is honour bound. He must… he is supposed to … he is totally oh so uncomfortable about marrying his betrothed. … His spouse… It is not that he does not care for… but it is a big step in the unknown. Once married, no turning back. The Cycle must proceed; if need be, the Cycle will devour them. Little One is not afraid of dying. But is worried for … this person who does not know yet what it will entitle…

Little one whispers softly, only for his ears, the sweet name of his beloved. His beloved… A few days ago, he was as free as a young sparrow and now he is entering matrimony. Life has really some funny turns…

- _'Little One…'_

The wind is calling him. It can only mean something. Seizing the small flacon of AllMother Blood he always carries around him in case of an emergency, he rushes out of his own yurt. Orders his equerry not to follow him. Jumps on the nearest available Spider Horse which is Sleipnir and rides like the little red headed demon he can be. His blood brother is calling him.

While he is galloping and Sleipnir enters the Forest shortcut which will take him to his Destiny, Little One heaves a great sigh. It is his fate and he is not even afraid. The princeling is just worried he might be late.

Thor is almost on Loki. Loki who is backing up, Loki who does not want to have the muzzle back on. Why has Fate governed that on this day of Glory, on this day which is showing to all Asgard what a noble, courageous warrior his brother is…? Why has Fate decided that Madness would claim him back? What use has glory or victory if he is losing his brother?

The King says nothing. How could he say anything? Two words a long time ago have cost him a child. He has learnt too late the power of words his second son masters so well. Too well for his own sake. He will not speak. He will not make the situation worse. Back in Asgard, he will seek the best healers, the best magicians. He will even beg Njord's help. He will do everything. Today, he just wants one thing: Loki back in Asgard.

Safe from himself. Safe from the wild animal who looks like his son. This monster, who is not, cannot be his gentle, quiet son. Too quiet. Way too quiet. He curses the inattentive father he has been, who found Loki too weak. He has set the fox to mind the geese. He has allowed a snake to slide inside his poor son's mind strangling it in merciless coils. Soon in Asgard, he will save his child. He will; because to see Loki's brilliant mind to become this is too cruel for a father … and a mother!

Loki retreats further and further away. Takes more steps back. Theoric the bumbling idiot thinks he can coerce the mad Prince. Madder than a Vanir does not cover it. The new Red Hawk tries to hold on to him from behind. The lunatic roars and throws him like he was just a tumble weed on Thor's advancing form.

A familiar rumble and the sky opens. Another portal with Sleipnir seemingly alone jumping from nowhere in the middle of the scene. The warriors Three and Sif try to calm down the frightened horse which is slowing down in the meadow yet far from settled. Everybody is distracted and misses the light form which almost but not exactly appeared at the same time. Just a few seconds after allowing the portal to stay open just a bit longer.

Little One jumps also and seizes Loki's hand. While the other hand … A quick wrist shake and the mystical fluid contained by the vial is splashed in the air. … Not splashed in the air. Because the drops of the liquid stay floating like a resonance of some unknown mystery and look like steps, like a ladder? The lite Horse dancer rushes on the liquid stairs pulling Loki behind him.

Thor understands. Predictably too late. The sky portal is almost closed but there is a gap between the two closing sides of the tear and Loki with his Vanir saviour slip through it. And it is over.

- _'There is nothing you can do, Thor. Vanirs are notorious magicians when it comes to air and water. The Heir of the Vanirs is a great wizard despite his young years. Your brother is now unwisely allowed to roam in a realm which does not harbour friendship for Asgard…'_

- _'You have recovered Sleipnir, My Lord'_

Odin sighs at the down to Midgard approach voiced by Theoric. How can a horse replace a son? Theoric may be a valuable soldier; his crass insensitivity to finer feelings wounds him.

And they fall. They both fall. Not from high but they fall and Vanaheimr ground is just hard as one falls on the Bifrost when it is slippery icy on an Asgardian winter day. Still they do not fall from high and all they get at best are a few bruises.

-_ 'Done my friend! Done and dusted! Odin has still a lot to learn about our dear Spiders. By the time, he gets how we ride the portals; we all shall be grandfathers ourselves…'_

Little one is quite proud of himself. Between him and his … better self, he knows what he has achieved was pretty dangerous. Yet, he has pulled it through and through. Njord Khan will be angrier than a mother bilge snipe which has been separated from her cubs. Njord will ask him in a few days how he did it and chuckle at his grandson's mischievous trick.

Years of training have paid off. Only a light-footed Horse Dancer can achieve this level of acrobatic dexterity. Do a summersault backward as the horsehead starts crossing the portal to be followed by another one frontward causing a longer vibration for the portal to hold. After this, just a little sprinkle of good and honest old fashioned Vane magic fare and you pull your blood-brother from the claws of his would be captors. Trick of an eye!

The chatterbox who is the Heir of the Vanirs explains and indicates at Loki his native realm's vast plains. Explains this and points at that. Says they will have to walk back to the camp where his grandfather's Golden Herd is situated. Moving his arms about like a colt which is snorting about.

Missing that the friend, the blood brother he has rescued is no more the sane Loki he has healed … The gentle spell which restored Loki body and soul to sanity has been destroyed by one revelation too much.

Little One is all alone with a madman who has recovered totally from the months of endless torture by the hands of The Other, from the hands of the Hulk. From the bullets of the Dark Elves. A madman who is ravenously angry… at him! Because Little One has shown that Truth hurts horribly more so than Lies. The monster is advancing behind him, his hand looking desperately for a dagger. His last dagger. Loki always keeps a dagger in case of an emergency. A dagger hidden from the perception of the berserker he becomes when the frenzy of battle seizes him. He seizes it behind the back of Little One who sees nothing. Who points at the sun and how shiny it is. A brilliant omen for victories to come.


	19. Chapter 20

The monster has pulled out the dagger. It is now raised up high ready to strike the back of this very bad person who has caused so much grief to its holder. The Vanir persists at turning his back from the snarling creature. So be it. The creature is poised, yet cannot but helps looking at the scenery, at the sky. At the sun. The blinding sun.

Sun hot, Sun glaring. Burning Sun. Bad Sun. The monster must blink. Must and tries to focus, despite the sunrays burning his retina. Has to see what he is doing. Notices one thing and another. Notices how the Vanir shimmers in the Sun. How his body looks unstable, vague, un-formed. How this body is not … real? But a projection of a shape and it reminds the beast of whom he is. The beast blinks and sees things he does not want to see. Does not want to remember.

Like this dream. Like the little boy who is playing hide-and-seek … with his brother. Yes, there are two children. The sweet dream is slowly emerging from the fog of his deluded memories. Two children; two boys. Is it a flash back from his own childhood? No, the two boys who do not look the same are really brothers yet… Twins! Twin boys. Loki is there, looking at the game and it is his… sons! Where? When? In a distant… not so distant future. And his loins are reminding him he is a man with very human appetites.

Children do not come alone. Even for wizards. Unless they are necromancers; and there is always a receptacle somewhere even in this horrible situation. Loki has studied the Dark Arts. Naturally. He is fascinated by the mystery of Creation… and Death. Yet he draws the line. There is the theory and the practice. Loki does not know anybody worth bringing back from the Dead. Yet.

Boys. Twins. Sons. Which follows… and the monster listens. The monster is pleased by the tale. The monster is calmer. More please, more says he. Sons… therefore there is a mother somewhere. A mother. This leads him to remember his own mother. Frigga… Frigga who would say: bad, bad monster and take the naughty knife away from little hands at risk of cutting their own fingers. Nice Frigga.

The dagger falls. Falls and disappears from sight as it falls in the grass, the weeds of the Vanir steppe.

Frigga. Lovely, generous Queen. Good Queen. Queen … of what? Asgard! AllFather! Loki climbs back, crawls under the crust of the earth. Step by step. One after another. And too many stumbles. Always going up. Swimming upwards, climbing upwards. Digging up and up toward the surface trying to free the sane man out of the prison of his own madness.

AllFather… and a Queen? A wife. Yes, he has a wife. This dream has given him sons born from his own wife. Two boys and... And he is sure that somewhere there is another child in waiting… Waiting? Waiting! Because the child is not yet born. It is still their very own secret. But there is another child; of this he is absolutely sure.

A wife. There was no betrothed when he … fell. No loved one; no fair maiden. Because if there is one thing he knows, it is that such peace, such joy he is feeling in this dream can only come from one thing. Loki is happy because he loves and is loved! Loved? If he loves, it is a total fusional love. A love with no return, no turning back. A love which gives itself without fence, without wall of defence. It is a love so complete it leaves the lovers defenceless if one of them is taken away.

The idea of such a pain causes the monster to freeze and try to make it smaller. Less at risk. A lover… and a wife. A mother. He looks at the children. Because the second boy has appeared and if the first one looks like him like two peas in a pod, just as pale as his sire, just as dark haired; the second one is taking after someone else. The nose of the other twin is straight this time, but the eyes are blue and the hair is some shade of fiery gold with curls. Thor errs on the side of blond but has never been endowed with curls even at this early age. Both boys try and show sparkles of magic at the tip of their fingers, giggling and darting out to …. Nowhere. The dream seems to stop short. But for a shadow.

The monster groans. The monster wants to see the shadow. This shadow is calm, quieting him down. Rooting him in certainty, in peace. Giving him this thing he craves. The answer to all his whys. A road to all the what-might-have-beans and what-can-be. A gentle guide, a guiding hand. Belonging to … ? Shadow, show your face! Thou, who give such relief to my tortured soul, show thee!

The shadow he cannot be; yet he can fee all the peace, all the … the love he gets from it. Loki from the Future is in peace; has found his home. Loki of the tomorrows is at peace with Asgard and maybe… maybe even Odin. A cold peace is better than no peace. The shadow glides, flies under his arm. And he holds it captive. A willing prisoner he will not surrender. He let go of the staff; he will never let go of the shadow. It is his strength and his own weakness.

Shadow, little shadow, who art thou? You give me love … love? Somebody loves Loki? Somebody loves the monster? Nay, this cannot be. The dream is false. Binding him in imaginary fantasy; binding him in lies! The entire dream is a lie. Nobody loves; nobody cares for Loki. Who would care for him? He is a monster who terrifies children at night! He is an evil Jotun … born to Jotuns. Laufey was right to kill his mother. She deserved to die: a slut, a mewling adulteress! Laufey was right to expose him to die. His birth was shameful; besides he was… he is a runt. Unworthy of Jotunheimr. Unworthy of Asgard. Rejected by the sire who bore him whose loins bore him; despised, never to be trusted by the man who took pity on him. And pity is worse than infanticide. Loki does not want pity!

Loki was born to be a king. His fathers are kings; his mothers are of royal lineage. Farbauti should have ruled of her own accord; Frigga can pass on to Balder the dignity of the Vanir Khanate. Loki should be king! Now!

All these things which should be, which are not, swirl and spin. And burn, and brand his soul like hot irons. Like his Jotun skin markings. The monster looks at his hand. His blue hand like it was discovering again and again his true parentage. Like the battle scene in Jotunheimr was playing again and again. And he slays again and again the monster who dared calling him brother. The dagger flies and flies again. Just like this one now which is going to transfix this stupid Vanir who insists not looking at him? Bad Vanir who deems himself to be so much more noble than Loki. Who deems Loki unworthy to be looked at? Death to you, Vanir!

Death would come; would have come by the blow of a dagger except… there is no dagger. The dagger fell and is lost among the wild tall grass. Loki will not bend and try to find it. It would be humiliating. Trolls would do that; but not a king.

- _'What do you think of my realm, friend? Could you call it your home? Would you be happy living among us?'_

_- 'My name is Loki and I have no home!'_

_(I am a God. The God of Lies, of false appearances. This shape is not mine. I can demultiply; I can be here, there. Everywhere. I am Chaos. Mischief is my name. Like are Silver-Tongue, Lie-Smith and Sky-Walker. I walk the skies; I ride them! I am a monster and I slay children like you. Now! Now? No…)_

The dagger would still be high; he has not stricken yet. His hands so big to grasp such a little neck have not yet clasped themselves around Little One's wind pipe. Because it shimmers, it glistens under the sharp sun light. Little One seems odd; seems other. His shape is fluctuating as if it was not sure as what to be. As if since it is back home on his native ground, it wanted to reverse to what it is really.

The monster is not so sure. The monster wants to slay. This much is true. He wants to slay someone precise. Someone in particular. Little One of the Vanirs. The Heir of Vanaheimr. And this little youth is… weird. Is not what he should be. Is something else. The monster will slay him once he knows for once and for all who is Little One!

What does Loki know of the Vanir youth? A spy. A skilled Spider-Horse rider. A Death Dancer… and it pleases Loki and the Monster such an innocent youth could kill with such a smile without showing any mercy. A prince; the heir of a Realm. Thor's equal. Not equal: there is no Vanir Thunder Hammer. Equal: there is no Asgardian Vanir shape-shifting magician. But for Loki.

A rider… a shape shifter. A magician… A Vanir! Naturally how can he have forgotten the curious glamour when Little One has been morphing in this Dark Elfin forest? Not once but twice. Between Thanos tortures and the Hulk's robust if rough treatment Loki's intellect is prone to take shortcuts instead of analysing what it conceals under the obvious. The tree hiding the Forest. One single lie to hide the Truths. Not even a lie. Because Little One's prevarication simply and masterfully relies on the expectations of his audience. Brilliant, cunning little bastard!

Every time, he has looked at it and noticed something odd. Something extra added. Deprived of his magic, Loki could not understand but knew enough to feel there was something… afoot? Something wrong. Like one morphs into a thing then another one. Another… Another one! A not Little One!

Little One is not Little One.

Killing the youth it appears to be has no glory. Killing the master wizard he is; now there is glory. And power. Farbauti through Freya was kin to Njord… Thus, Loki's name must be somewhere written on the Vanir list of royal hopefuls… He cannot help sneering at the idea of having to become King of Vanaheimr. Jotunheimr is the kingdom of Ice; Midgard is about Ants and Vanaheimr… magicians? Why not? Loki of Vanaheimr… Yes. It has the right ring to it. Under his rule, Vanirs will remember they are Gods and Asgard will soon hear again the war drum.

Before ordering war against his 'dear' unnatural father and his hated half-brothers, Loki must first secure the Vanir throne. Njord is old; an accident could happen … or poetic grief at losing his last heir. Little One will die now.

If there is no swift dagger, there are nimble fingers which are hiding their strength under their slenderness. All what is needed now is to know who is the real heir of the Vanir? Probably a tall man like Freyr with dark hair like Njord had a long time ago…

Little One stops speaking. He has not stopped chattering like a crazy magpie. Trying to drown by noise the fear which is eating his soul. At one point, Loki will have to know. Is bound to know, to be told. And this wedding looming at the horizon… He has sworn…

- _'Well, I have better start now. Our camp is not …'_

_'… Not you. Show me who you are, dear blood brother. Brothers do not lie to each other. Real brothers do not hide truth between themselves. Brothers are equal!'_

And Loki's right hand tightens itself around Little One's neck while his left arm like the coils of a snake attaches itself to the Vanir's upper body.

-_ 'As a rule, I like to know who I send to Niflheimr. You should have chosen to die in Svartalfheimr, Little One. Valhalla is not for you.'_

_- 'I have always known Niflheimr is to become my home… at one point.'_

_'Vanirs are such poor losers. Better calling themselves men that to accept they lost a war to Asgard. Better die a dishonourable death than fight as a true warrior. My, I am talking like Thor!'_

Little One is no coward. Being of a weaker strength has never implied cowardice. And knowing fear is not dishonourable; what is shameful is to allow it ride your soul. Little One knows fear but not shame. The youth struggles, tries to push away from his throat the bruising Asgardian fingers. Tries to repulse the arm which is like an iron chain crafted by mystical dwarves across his chest. To be met by no success.

-_ 'Tell me who you are first and I shall be quick.'_

_- 'I do not un…_

_- 'You understand very well. The longer you deny my will, the longer the pains you will suffer before reaching the Realm of the Dead'_

So this has to come to pass. This rebellion against the Runes Bones is crushed mercilessly. All these past days, trying to avoid a destiny like a bird tried to avoid the net of its catcher… all has been done in vain. Fought in vain. Not in vain. Little One is quite satisfied of the Bones; the Norns have not played him … 'him' false. But … the other… the other one. The one who is just like 'him' a pawn of destiny; what will… what will happen? What will happen to his betrothed, once the Truth is in the open? What's more, what will Loki say? Because Little One on the contrary has never underestimated Loki Odinsson.

-_ 'You are not going to like it!'_


	20. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Truth can hurt; truth can heal. Truth has many faces. Loki knows its Janus face. Yet the kind aspect of the Divinity eludes him. All he knows is painful truths and cruel lies. True rejection and lying love. Brothers who are not brothers; homes which do not cater for him. A never-ending blood dripping ledger and the day of reckoning which is coming. It will be Ragnarok to pay for it!

All has been revealed to be lies down to his own father who'd rather have him believed he was adopted than to know he is his true child. There is so much a man or a God can take. He cannot carry on unravelling every instant he has to cope with more bad news. He has to cope! He has to make do. He has to live with the fact he is a genetic combination between a deluded Jotun and a calculating Aesir. He has to live with the acceptance neither Asgard nor Jotunheimr want him. He is alone. A lonely monster. A one of a kind.

Not a monster. Not like Thanos. Thanos is a cold-hearted one; the Other is a sadistic one. Loki's claim to monstrosity is limited to the mad man he shares his soul with. Said creature is not a bad one; just a lost and lonely one.

All alone, abandoned… Unlike this silly Vanir who believes that Truth can hurt him more. Just like he could be angrier than he is already. Who does this absurd youth believe he is and what does this knowledge will change for Loki? Nothing. All it will cause will be just a line, a name to add to his ledger of 'persons I have killed at random because I was sick and tired of them'… Just a name because damned for damned, Loki wants to be judged for crimes he commits and takes responsibility for.

_- 'Humour me!'_

And it happens. The brilliant sorcerer sees the sparks. Appreciates the mist of times, the fog of shapes. Can guess what is going out. Waits to see what will be coming in. Expecting the obvious. His right hand claws and digs around the Vanir's throat, his fingers rubbing not gently at all against the chin while his head rests on the red curls… and this is it. This is just it. The wild wolf is about to burrows his fangs in the prey; the planning snake makes sure when it falls on and around it, it will strangle the prey for once and for all without any available escape. The prey is going to…

No sudden burst of growth. At best one or two more inches. The very same red curls rebelling from a short braid. A chin devoid of stubble … and things which do not disappear, which do the very opposite of Little One's signature mark of facial hair. Like these things appearing on his chest. Things on Little One chest. Things Loki knows but not on the Vanir's torso… And he recognizes the curls. He has seen them but a few instants ago when this dream of lies was trying to deceive him again and again. Which means…?

His hands roughly and less roughly as they progress, search Little One. Search the plait. Take notice of the waist and make sure he is not again victim of lies. Till his prey giggles…

- _'I am ticklish'_

_- 'If you are who I think you are; I shall take leave to tell you how angry I am! How dared you, you of Vanaheimr Royal Bloodline… '_

Because he knows now who is Little One. A child who without as much as your leave has not hesitated to enter one of the lowest, most unsavoury taverns patronized by Fandral. Not only has he walked in this den of inequity like a breeze; but he has entered into a game of cards, dices. Who knows what else? And he has drunk and drunk. Enough to gain access to Fandral, to win his confidence as to be offered to play against him… No doubt Thor's friend saw him as a lamb ready to be fleeced. And to engage into a brawl! To end up in Odin's dungeon! The effrontery!

If Njord ever learns what his heir has been up to... This is exactly what is wrong with Asgard and Vanaheimr! Old men at posts of responsibility. He will make sure Little One is fiercely shackled and never ever at liberty to repeat this madcap scheme. And if he has to spank the Vanir himself he will!

Little One for once is quite mute. Loki's fingers touch the Vanir' face by little light strokes. As to make sure he is checking this and that item. Comparing and contrasting each element against his memory of what Little One looked like… and what he knows the real youth looks like. Because he has a model. A very much younger model, which will make do.

Curls, red hair. Ticked. A turned-up nose. Ticked. Bushy eyebrows gone. Ticked. As for the freckles… if his son has some, he must take them for … her. Which mean he has to turn as to be facing him a suddenly very reticent body?

Little One being… well almost as short. Not as strong and rather overpowered by the taller stronger nimbler man has no choice but to be subjected to the ignominy of a physical search. Has no choice but accept the Jotun's hands on parts of his… its… parts! And knows from the sharp intake of breath of his gaoler Loki knows now perfectly who Little One is. Worse now, the Vanir is obliged forcefully though not cruelly to turn and face his captor. Said captor is in for a surprise! Little One will not surrender. Will not speak and will not look at him. Little One will not give in. Will not cave in. And will not acknowledge Loki. Better look at anything but Loki… Like… like Loki's boots!

All Loki can see is the curls, the coppery, gloriously rebellious fiery curls which are escaping from the braid. Little One's real height pleases him. Just the right one for him.

Except he does not know how to induce the mischief-maker, the outrageous rebel to lift … its head and face him. Beside Loki does not know how to engage the conversation. Because at one point, they must have to engage into one. If the shadow is what he takes it to be.

The dream of his future has shown what will happen after, to him. Too bad it has not shown what Silver-tongue has said to achieve this future. As for now Loki is as tongue-tied as his not-so-well-wishers would wish him to be. And the long silence carries on…

-_ 'What are you looking at?'_

_- 'Your boots'_

Shoe-ware is not the topic he would have chosen, but he is game to it.

- _'What do my boots tell you?'_

_- 'They need cleaning.'_

_- 'If ever I return to Thanos's rock, I shall complain about his pitiful amenities.'_

It is not the best wit he can come with; today is exceptional. And not successful as one could expect from such a lame joke. Little One is obstinately lost in the contemplation of boots which have seen better days. He could claim that normally his appearance is more dapper than it is now. He doubts such talk would induce Little One to raise its Vanir head…

His fingers find a chin and inch by inch coerce it to lift. Little One does not want to meet Loki's eyes and Loki wants very much to see if he has won a bet against himself. Little One, the Old Little One had freckles. The new one is bound to have just as many… if not more. A lot more by the look of it.

Now that he sees who really Little One is really, Loki is sorely, and badly tempted to give a good shake at the atrocious child. The reckless youth. Loki would like to get angry; finds he cannot without Little One acknowledging him.

It takes two to play this game, thinks Loki. And his fingers push higher up the chin while Little One eyes try to look down and down. Find they cannot and try a second best.

_- 'What are you looking at?'_

_- 'Your breast plate … you're… your arm plates. Your armour needs…'_

_- '… To be cleaned, I know. Someone has just most kindly informed me of the sad fact'_

The chin is pushed up as high as can be. While the viewpoint of Loki is … as pretty as can be, Little One neck is hurting like Surtur burns. And the Vanir surrenders. Just before looking at the ground again, because Loki has just let his… its chin go free for an instant

All his gains are lost again… or not. If Little One behaves like the naughty pupil who has been found out by his stern tutor, it implies Loki is the teacher and he has enough experience with a reluctant younger Thor as to achieve his ends. By now the Wolf plays with the prey to make sure it cannot run away and the snake is coiled around it as to prevent any attempt. The prey is his albeit it does not know it yet.

-_ 'Was Njord aware?'_

_- '…'_

_- 'Let's rephrase it as to spare you humiliation: Did Njord Khan approve of your scheme?'_

Asked point-blank if his grandfather would have condone this prank in Asgard can only mean dejecting defeat; rather Little One prefers this battle of kindred spirits where a will can outsmart another one. Without hurting physically. Though the wounds of his self-esteem will be probably grievous.

-_ 'I suppose … had he known…'_

_- 'He would have locked you up in his own dungeon! After whipping you and I would have provided the whip. You could have been killed!'_

There was no risk of that. The disguise, the shape shifting was spotless. In case of danger, Little One would have morphed into a mice or something. He informs Loki most seriously that Fandral does cheat and it was he who called the attention of the Einherjar as to get arrested as Fandral and his two friends were all too ready to pluck the plump pigeon which had come to fall in their hands. So they … so it was as safe as...

- _'So you thought… you believed Odin's personal body guards would be on duty attending to Asgard's low life. Has it not stricken you as odd that AllFather guards who by sheer luck would be on call that very night would take you personally without any body search to my father's dungeon?'_

_- 'Your father would not have known! There was no way for him...not know... I think?'_

_- 'Just like Njord would not have noticed you had been pilfering of AllMother blood for your own selfish pursuit? Your planning has been careless from top to bottom.'_

Naturally Njord noticed and informed Odin as to make sure the naive prankster was up to no good and had to be restrained for his own good sake for his own mischief.

By now, Little One is getting distraught. One by one all his carefully built lines of defences, denials, prevarications skilfully counter-balanced by half-truths, incomplete admissions are being steadily destroyed.

- _'Why did you go to the Vault? I know what you did and why you did it. As a wizard myself, I consider it a bit limited when it comes to spells and divination regarding the future. Witchcraft done for a well-known purpose… remind me of it…. Now!'_

Little One is trapped. A trap made by himself. Shaking his head in denegation, he refrains from answering and Loki realizes his interrogation technic needs to be smoother though as ruthless.

- _'Let's try by stating the obvious: who did you see?'_

_- ' err…. A Jotun'_

_- 'Excellent, we are progressing'_

If Little One resents the game, Loki delights in it. He is a wolf goading the deer to a wall; he is the snake slithering closer and closer to the inattentive prey.

- _'What says this Jotun to you?'_

_- 'Nothing… I mean: how can he? … err… I did not know. I just wanted access to the vault. I hope I could trick the guard to put me in the cell with the spring…'_

_- 'A cell where I just happened to be a prisoner…'_

Little One resents so much this game of cat and mouse that he fool-hardily retorts:

_- 'I can assure you that if I had known you were locked there, I would not…'_

_- 'I believe you. Nobody wishes to meet face to face a monster'_

_- 'YOU ARE NOT A MONSTER. How many times must repeat it?'_

It is not a lot; it is but a crumb. But the wolf smells the prey closer and the snake starts to raise its head. Loki has heard the denial and it pleases him. What pleases him less, is the intervention; the glaring interventions of his father and probably Njord. Though to give them due deference, his own antics on the Bifrost and in Midgard must not have helped.

- _'We wanted to unite our two realms…_'

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Chapter 22

Asgard, yes. To Jotunheimr, not. Loki has heard into this sentence an echo of Farbauti. It was an echo of Vanaheimr. A treaty. A truce between two warring nations. A clause written in other times. A classical line. Midgard has ended up many wars with this clever ploy. No winner, no loser. Peace through unison of two kingdoms. Two persons.

From the beginning, his dreams were simply trying to show him what Reality was; who the real person was behind the persona of Little One.

True Heir of the Vanirs. True Death Dancer. True shape shifter and Malekith's enemy. True Little One too. A child born to a dead father; born to a dying mother way too soon. Little One is little because he is the real runt! The premature baby. So little and fragile, his grandfather has taken to call him little because he was. Still, it is not his true name and this royal name must be a lot nobler than Little One, though possibly less used.

- _'Did you know about … the Jotun?'_

_- 'All we knew was Farbauti's son had disappeared and Odin had another son. Grandfather could not accept… our Realm subjected… And I was not keen on… Thor… I accept he is good-hearted but … but he is not very bright, you know. Balder is sooooo young. As for Lie-Smith… we had heard of what had happened on Midgard. I could not… I had to find out why…. The Norns, the treaty, the Runes Bones all were saying Odinsson… I had to decide. I had to choose.'_

Loki has chosen. Since a long time. How blind has he been, how preposterous has his list of requirements been. How frightened is he, now that the prey faces the wolf, faces the snake? His arms are like chains and coils around Little One: half of them to make sure the Vanir cannot fly away, half of them to ascertain nobody can steal Little One from him!

_- 'Who did you choose? Who does Njord's bloodline choose among the Odinssons?_

_- 'It is not fair. You know it is not fair!'_

_- 'Not all is fair in Love, my dear!'_

This time, Little One has no choice but look at Loki. See Loki. Show the Jotun cannot threaten. Show it is time to stop playing this game of denial. Admit the game is lost or won, depending on what the real aims are.

What Loki sees behind the hazel eyes of his son to be born, eyes that are not his son but a promise of it, pleases Loki. Straight eyebrows, not bushy at all. The nose will never be aristocratic. Who cares about noses? Longer eye-lashes, countless freckles. Fuller lips. Ahead who just reaches his shoulders with rebellious curls, symbols of a mind of its own? The battle of wills has just begun and he enjoys it.

-_ 'I have asked a question. I am listening…'_

_- '… err… '_

_- 'yes…'_

_- '…'_

This is the most pitiful exchange he has been privy to. Yet, he finds it most satisfactory. The mumble of an answer pleases his ear. His arms get a lot tighter around Little One figure; yet the Vanir does not complain.

_- 'I will endeavour every day… and night to prove your choice was justified…and to prevent you from shortening your grandfather's life through your tendency to adventuring without thinking!'_

Silver-Tongue is all too ready to show how skilful he can be with words. Little One does not leave him time to be. Height wise, Njord's healers are positive it will never grow. As for manners, he is the despair of his governesses, advisors, viziers. To the point that more than once, Njord has been REALLY angry.

-_ 'Justifiably so if my memory does not desert me. You have the manners and the vocabulary of a hoyden!'_

_- 'I was playing the part…'_

_- 'I doubt playing the part of a Royal consort implies playing dices with drunken soldiers in dens of iniquities among whores. I doubt being the Heir of the Vanirs allows appalling coarse behaviour insulting my brother's friends. Do you realize I could have hurt you, killed you?'_

Loki's arms get tighter and Little One must resort to push him away. Just enough to breathe; not enough to get free.

- _'I never feared you. I have always trusted you. You saved my life and for a God of Lies… you were quite devoted to Truth. I know… you did not tell me immediately who you were… but I did not tell you who I really was. We were equals in our secrets. Vanirs do not lie; they…erm ... prevaricate'_

_- 'They prevaricate… prettily'_

Finally, at long last Loki is allowed to do what he has been pinning to do since… Well since he knows everything about Little One. The real Little One. Any Prince is taught from an early age how to be poised, be polite and charming, witty. How to captivate his audience. When it comes to ladies, he is more about brains than brawn unlike Thor. Courting, wooing is not a given. Ladies are like preys who run from the growling wolf and the lying snake. Words must be soothing, enticing leading said ladies to willingly surrender.

What Loki did not know is that when the game of wooing is played in earnest, the wolf is as much in danger as the doe. The snake is just as a prey as his planned victim. Today, Loki is in earnest and must convince Little One of his sincerity. Tall order for the God of Lies.

_'I am not pretty. I have a snub nose'_

_'Let me be judge of this'_

Little One is a stern judge when it comes to female beauty. He has high expecations or rather she has. Yes, she as in Her.

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Chapter 23

Because Little One has always been her from the very first day she was born. When the Aesir-Vanir war was concluded, the treaty had included the classic line of uniting the two former warring nations into one. Vanirs, men who pretend to be Gods are Gods none the less. Njord can rule the waves. Njord who had so many sons and daughters agreed to the scheme. One of his many daughters would marry an Odinsson. Who would be the unlucky pair did not matter in this game of thrones? The pair would unite, produce the requisite Vanir-Aesir children and real peace would ensue. Children loving just as must their Asgardian sire than their Vanir genitor, no more war would be possible.

Then tragedy struck. Njord lost in the year of Pestilence all his heirs but Freyr. Freyr barely married to his Muspellsheimr bride would be slain by Laufey as Vanirs and Aesirs were allied against the Jotuns. What was a classic clause on a treaty was becoming as much as a life line to the bereaved Vanir Khan as a direct threat to his kingdom.

Odin had to provide immediately a second son. Just as Toddler Thor would be due in the very distant future to become Asgard's next king, Infant Loki could become Vanaheimr next king… The terms of the treaty were vague enough to be read in so many ways. Loki was always a mean, an object. A pawn. Not a relic but the solution in this diplomatic warfare to come. 'Unite Vanir bloodline with an Odinsson'. Here is your Odinsson, he will be your next king.

Then a true miracle happened; the unexpected unlikely saviour. Gersimi was with child. Freyr's widow gave birth to the new Heir of the Vanirs and left the scene to meet in death her dear husband. Leaving Njord with a live and diminutive heir. A healthy but short and female heir.

Vanaheimr was almost, just about, not completely saved from Odin's imperialism. A male heir could reply to Asgard demands as being unable to complete them. A princess and Odin would claim a Vanir bride to his son. Until for reasons unknown unless he wanted to offer more choices to Njord' granddaughter, little Balder was added to the equation.

Thor with Asgard, Loki in Vanaheimr and that was it. Who between Loki and Balder to become King was another tune to sing? Balder ticked all the boxes of a certified almost Vanir prince. Loki was to be relegated to the relic status… Except something must have happened? Loki does not know what but it must be pretty big to have coerced Odin to hide his third son… A … prophecy? About what? Maybe about Ragnarok… If so, Odin cannot use this brilliant trump card and Loki is back on track.

Njord meanwhile carries on the pretence of a male heir. Rumours are ruled out. A child seen in the distance …dressed as a boy. A whole realm dedicated to his young princeling. A prince. A neutral Heir of the Vanirs. Time flies…

Children are now adults. Odin does not find the time to explain 'why'. Midgard becomes a key player. Loki gets angry… gets mad… decides to let go off everything. Which does not please Njord. Realms can survive insane lords if said lords beget sae children. Dead men, dead Gods are barren.

A Chitauri invasion later, Loki is back. Odin's magic prevents Vanir spying from working. Njord does not approve of Midgard; Odin does not approve of Loki. Balder card is played. Little One has no fancy for AllFather's youngest. None the less, Odin presses for the conclusion of the treaty. Little One has to choose. Because Odin has always known who really Little One is.

The deception he has approved of; what better way than a male prince to thwart Laufey's ambitions. Jotunheimr would not have hesitated again at attacking a realm about to be ruled by a female. Jotunheimr would have no qualms at marrying a widowed King to a new born female princeling. Odin made sure the baby princess would be given protection. Asgardian garrisons were not there to impose Aesir rule over Vanirs but prevent an attack from Jotun Ice warriors. All has been a game of mirrors from the very beginning. Loki cannot help but being in admiration of Odin who has kept ahead of the game at every step.

The Jotun King may have slain Freyr but the old Vane tree is resilient. There is a young bud growing in the shadow of his grandsire tall trunk. If the bud-ling is a rebel is of no importance, an Aesir husband will soon keep her in toe. Sooner than later. Little Princeling grows in wisdom? Maybe. In self-reliance, certainly. In obedience, not at all.

Odin is mistaken in thinking Vanir women are meek ladies. Little One refuses Balder; refuses Thor. Somehow she must have found a soft spot for Farbauti's orphan. Not because she has a kind heart or because they are somewhat kin. She must have preferred freedom or him… because they both share the same absent father. Though Loki suspects that unlike Odin, Njord has provided like Frigga all the needed love a child needs.

Odin disapproved; Njord corrected. Njord did not disregard magic or cunning words. Njord approved of carefully thought plans implying a minimalist approach to physical warrior intervention. Vanes like subtlety. Unlike Aesirs. More Loki felt crushed by Asgard regarding his own ambitions; more Little Ones was crushed by Vanaheimr ambitions having to renounce willingly to what she wanted to be. Both have a lot in common. Both lives mirrored into each other's.

Odin wants his pound of Vanir daughter-in-law flesh. Njord has any more Aesir prince cards to counter him. Little One must decide. Thor or Balder? Meanwhile, Loki who is as mad as a spring hare is in jail. Waiting for a trial which everybody knows, will never happen.

The Norns say Loki; the Runes Bones must sort of imply the same and Little One is rightly terrified of the groom she has no choice but to choose. And choose she will. Through a typical Vanir female witchcraft ploy. She will use the dark energy contained in the casket of winters to show her the face of her husband-to-be. She is afraid, worried of 'her betrothed'. Should she? Should she not?

A few drops of AllMother Blood to throw to visit Asgard, a bit of innocent prankish magic to access the large quantity of dark energy and she can read her future. A Jotun. Which must have terrified her. While at the same time put less pressure about a prospective Odinsson groom.

She must have wanted to repeat the spell safe in Vanaheimr when all has gone wrong. Or so she must have thought. Odin and Njord have managed to get the pair of 'promised' to meet each other and the pair must have pass mustard. Their escape was all too easy. Until Sleipnir stumbled and they ended up in Svartalfheimr. With Malekith…

All must have relied on Thor's clumsy efforts to … to find an artefact which name eludes him at the instant… an artefact to bypass the Bifrost un-repairable status and allow travel through the realms with a group of chosen friends. Malekith was doomed to lose. To put in about the same cell, the two adult Odinssons has been one of his many errors of judgement.

More Loki and Little One discovered that they had a lot in common (_blood brothers, really? Loki my friend, the Hulk has seriously impaired your judgement_), more they started developing feelings for each other. Little One giving him the truths he much needed, Loki did grow to rely more and more on his 'friend'.

If his father and soon-to-be grandfather in law plan were working perfectly and the treaty is going to be implemented in the full, the Dark Elf Lord dream of domination was going to be also implemented… Even if Malekith was unworthy….

Unworthy? … Worthy! Loki had to prove himself worthy of his bride to be. Little One was giving him truth, was restoring him to sanity. Loki had to prove her and the two divine match-makers (maybe to myself?) he had in him to redeem himself. To save the day, to sacrifice himself for the greater good.

He has been worthy of holding Mjolnir, sending it back to its legitimate owner. It is not about owning Mjolnir; it is about been true, Being able to understand what is meaningful, what it is worthy sacrifice oneself about. Despite his despair about learning who his real sire is, Loki has been a true Asgardian and has willingly returned Mjolnir to Thor. It does not clean his ledger but it gives him hope that he can stop reddening it more; maybe somehow in a way, it is not as red today. To have played his part unselfishly by his br…brother's side may have saved Midgard from another and worse invasion?

A worthy warrior, a worthy prince. A worthy son? … brother? Betrothed?

Madness is still baying at his ears. Madness is still clawing at his back. What happened on Midgard does not carry the thousandth of nightmares he has lived through Thanos hands. Does not carry the dreams which have scorched his mind as he fell through the void. And he holds tighter again Little One. What he has dreamt, must not, cannot happen. As long he has Little One with him, it will not happen!

Maybe Odin when he enters the Odin sleep sees these things, Maybe Njord whose dreams have created Universes are aware of Loki's nightmares and approve of his union with Little One…

There will always be a monster at Loki's side. A tame monster when it comes to the Vanir. To think that just for such a short instant, the wild man, the insane creature would have hurt but one hair of the coppery curls which tickle his chin is giving him unbearable pain. 'You will wish for something as simple as pain'… Losing Little One… The Other knows! Thanos knows!

Odin… Njord… they must protect Little One. How could Loki live without her? He will! He will sacrifice himself. He will leave the scene; leave her to his worthy if oafish brother Thor. Better leave her than hurt her, kill her and live with the memory of what was and what will never be again!

Except he cannot. He cannot let go of her. He is unable to let go of her. A world without Little One does not bear thinking of it. A world without her is unworthy to be lived in…. Is unworthy to be lived for. Without her, no realm, no universe, not even Yggdrasil makes sense. And Loki blinks at the answer. He who courts Death knows this weakness, this fatal attraction Odin's second son feels toward Death. Remove Little One and Loki will have no qualms at ending up the world. And he would. Ragnarok, its promise of nothingness would appeal to him if he was bereft of Little One.

To find the cause is to find the solution. Gods do not die. Willy-nilly, Little One will become a Goddess; he knows he has the right arguments to convince his father. If by mischance, she was to enter … the night…, he would take her back. He would bring her back; it has been done before. And he knows the theory; all he needs is:

-_ 'Promise me… if you were to die, that you will hear my voice and follow me wherever I take you. Promise'_

Little One promises. Her betrothed is again at it, again indulging into a fit of doldrums. She cannot stand witnessing him sad. She promises.

Why can't madness return? Why does he see all these dreams and suffer such excruciating pain in his mind and not his body? Losing Little One, he cannot bear the thought.

The Vanir woman for she is a woman will never be a grand disdainful Asgardian lady. She will always see the funny aspect of things; she will always be ready for harmless pranks. Her vocabulary is too rich in fine swear words and not rich enough in graces. She hates weaving like the Aesirs women are prone to do. She hates smiling pretty and not answering back at these stupid Aesir males who consider being a warrior is a clincher to any argument. She likes her companions to be intelligent and to show it by a display of a firework of wit.

She likes magic; she fears brutal strength. But she can ride the dancing horses; she has no qualms about getting tough when need rises. She has killed to protect her realm, her people. Nice people too, like her cousin Frigga Sultana. Like the royal Odinsson brat… and like Loki…

She has always known about her destiny. Did not believe in it. Does not believe in it still. To see a Jotun face to appear in the mirror of futures was quite a surprise to say the least. A Jotun was her intended? It was a mistake and this Jotun must … must… More she has known about this Jotun, more she has thought it was a mistake. She has pretended to become his blood-brother. Who was she fooling? When he saved her from the Elfin bullet, she has realized this Jotun was to play a very important part in her life. But she is a Princess of the Realm. Crown princes do not marry paupers; Heirs of the Vanirs do respect terms of treaties. Midgard may approve of shepherdesses marrying their princes; Vanaheimr expects better from his Khatun. Little One has pretended to be Loki's friend because she has no other choice. She has a betrothed… until she discovered it was the one and the same. Loki Jotun she likes. Loki Khan has gone in a rampage on Midgard, has destroyed the Bifrost in an access of madness. To become the willing consort of an insane prince is fraught with dangers and this is a euphemism!

Regardless both have done their duty to their realms. Loki has been brilliant and Grandfather has caved in. Which is great….Which is not great is that she still does not know what Loki thinks of her. Or she knows too much already.

He is angry and she is a rude hoyden. He does not like her. She does not blame him. Unlike the renowned Asgardian beauties who protect their skin from the unfriendly sun rays, she is covered in freckles; her hair is impossible to dress … and she has this ridiculous nose. Why is she her mother spitting image but for the eyes and is she not a fine Vanir like her father and grandfather? So much for famed Vane ladies reportedly skilled in love battlefields, she is woefully un-experienced, totally un-experimented. If Loki expects a lover who knows the rules and technics, she is falling very short of his expectations. She is not innocent; innocence is a byword for ignorance! She is a pitiful excuse of feminine graces. There is not one jot of Aesir womanhood in her. She can do for her people who expect their women to be free; but for an Asgardian who will want his bride to be as Asgardian as him… She would not be a bit surprised if she was disgusting him.

Loki may be drowning in doubts; his arms are not. Said arms do keep holding Little One. No way will they surrender the prey to anybody. If Loki wants to sacrifice himself to angst and self-loathing, he can do with their blessing. As long as they can carry on keeping in their embrace Little One, it is fine by them. And his eyes do approve of what they see. They like the mischievous eyes, the cute nose. The wistful smile. Who needs snobbish ladies who are about as tall as you when all you need is a shy and gentle maid who does not expect of you endless terms of endearment? Little One has the right height to put her head in the crook of his shoulder!

… The right height for his lips to kiss her?

Thanos fades away. Odin's approval for once has been obtained. His fingers lift again the chin of the dear face up … and …They both freeze. They have stopped talking for quite some times. Each lost in their own fear of being inadequate. But they are not. They are just what each other needs. Somebody who will never lie to him; somebody who will always allow her to be herself and not what others expect her to be.

They do not speak, but their eyes do. Their eyes like everything they see. Their souls are in true communion. They are but one. Some will say such love is wrong. Loki wants everything from Little One and believes her to be perfect. The Vanir knows her betrothed is doubt-ridden, a merciless mass-murderer with a feeble hold on reality. She cannot be but right; he is imperfect. Worse, he is jealous, insanely territorial, and madly possessive. She is his one link with sanity. And he intends to keep it his own.

Odin and Njord know it is wrong. Njord accepts it because Little One is a healer and it is her destiny to heal the crazy prince of Asgard. Odin wants it because Little One is the only known way to bring him his son back. It is time to say Yes, Loki. Thanos knows how wrong it is; as he is holding his brand new pawn he wonders when to play it and he laughs while the Other does not understand how can one laugh when he has lost unless … he has not.

They look at each other, revelling in this magical moment when all is new; when the world has just been created. Their world, their own world. Own realm. They do not need to speak; they bask in their own happiness. Their own love; it is theirs and nothing will come apart them. Nothing! Loki' arms are chains. The snake coils tighter; not around a prey but around a cherished treasure. The wolf snarls at who would dare to steal from his mate.

They do not speak; they just smile. He lifts her chin up and that is it. A kiss, a first kiss. Theirs. She feels like sweet soft snow; he feels like soft sweet warmth. She melts his ice; he gives her the reliability of his stubbornness.

She can fly as she wants because as far as she will go she will always come back to him. He does not dare to press too much; he has all the time. Later… This kiss has given him all what he needed to know about his affianced wife. How much is true and not so true about Vanirs and a Vanir maid in particular?

Later, he will take the lead, as for now, they are equals. Later, he will show her how to be … more equal. And his amused smile draws questioning looks which get their answers by a rain of kisses.

So many kisses that at one point even Gods need to stop and take a breath.

_- 'I cannot carry on calling you Little One. In Asgard, my father's ushers will not call on Princess Little One. What was acceptable for a cherished grandchild cannot be used for a Princess of the Realm Eternal'_

_- 'It is a pompous name. Why was I given this ridiculous name? ... Totally unfitting. And you Aesirs do not know how to pronounce it properly. You always accent the end when it is at the beginning'_

_- 'Try me. Do not doubt me'_

_- '…'_

She whispers, mutters she is not unlike the grandiosity of such a name and looks at askance as he laughs and laughs more. Kisses her more too. Kisses her a lot. Because it feels right; it is the right thing to do.

- _'Never doubt my love for you. Never… and I like your name. How poetic, how justified!'_

_- 'My mother named me. It is a homage to my father, who died in battle … and a signal to Laufey as Vanaheimr will never give in; will never be defeated …even in Death'_

Loki tries the name and whispers here into her ears, brushing more curls and tickling her earlobe, her neck as he blends it with kisses. Just the right name. Malekith has been defeated; Odin may not be pleased his second son knows his true parentage but is proud to know Loki is worthy to have held at least this one time Mjolnir. As for Thanos, he has escaped from his sway over his soul. Midgard… Midgard has been a collateral damage as it is bound to happen when innocent ants find themselves to be in the way of a boot. And if crushing a few ants means Loki is to get at the end of the day this lovely, this delicious girl… well he is going to crush them with gusto!

Little One is worth more than each and every added death and destructions he has caused in the town they call Manhattan. Stupid Avengers who believe they have defeated him. He has won. The important battle to win is the last one. And he has won.

Won Little One. Won his father's approval. Won a kingdom. Asgard better be careful. Vanaheimr has hidden resources! Good thing for Asgard, Loki has won his sanity back. Won everything. Won thanks to Little One who has never ceased to be at his side, like a faithful shadow.

The Vanir does not complain to be so man-handled as long as she can breathe. She pushes gently just a bit, her lover away. And puts her head against his shoulder, quite contented. Until her mad lover wants more kisses again.

- _'My lips are going to be bruised!'_

_- 'As long as they belong to me, they are absolutely fine'_

None the less, he kisses about everything else to give said lips a well-deserved rest. He is happy and does not envy Thor at all. Thor can have a daily coronation for all he cares. He has won what matters to him. Answers as regarding his parentage, as his 'whys'. Truths and no lies. Obtained through gentle Mischief and no monstrous Evil. And he is going to be a king; of a kingdom he won by honest endeavours. With a matching Queen … as nice as his mother! And a lot nicer than Sif and her three companions. He has won. Far from losing everything included his life, he has … This is the coronation of all his efforts. This is his own Victory day and he laughs again.

-_ 'Father, Father. You knew. You knew all along'_

And he readies himself to kiss her more as he tries again the sweet name of his very own Victory girl.

_- 'Victory is finally mine. My sweet love. My sweet victory. My Sigyn'_


	21. Things to come

**Afterword**

The End? The happy fairy-tale end? Really?

Those of you who know thanks to the Prose and Poetic Edda how the story ends, guess this is not really a happy end.

Loki is not mad, is he? Or simply has he been restored to the level of insanity he had before falling from the Bifrost?

Maybe he has always been insane. But until the revelation of his parentage, he was able to keep at bay the demons of his soul.

Now with the Goddess of Fidelity in tow not to mention Goddess of Bonds, Fetters, Oaths… and Truth he has found his soul-mate. And we wish them the be

Yet Ragnarok is coming…

The 'Jotun' explored how the monster which gnaws so cruelly at Loki's mind, can be/is vanquished by Love; The 'God' which is the Title of the Part 2 of Chaos will reveal how Loki will spiral back into madness.

Thanos has not lost. Far from it. Whatever contract Loki signed with the mad Titan, said Titan will want to be paid back. He will expect to get his pound of flesh.

Just so you know Loki God or not , has been called the Mother of Monsters for a Good Reason.

'The Jotun' resounded in positive vibrations. 'The God' will be as dark as one may wish for the Harbinger of the Twilight of the Gods.

Stay tuned. The next tale starts from the end of my AU Thor: the Dark World to my AU Thor 3: Ragnarok. (Just like Marvel would do that!)

You will notice that this post-face does not give any other clue for the 'Jotun' reader who starts looking at the end of the book to find what happens? Sorry, not short-cut for you. All is revealed; you simply need to collect hint after hint , chapter after chapter. And hopefully, you will enjoy this Alternate Universe.

Physically : Loki as Tom Hiddleston, Thor as Chris Hemsworth. Psychologically : Loki and Thor as Marvel version.

My story as to try to reconnect the Real Norse Myths with Stan Lee universe. (yes, I do not approve of his version. Sorry, mate)

Finally and this is the one clue you must remember. No OC, no Marie-Sue.

One last thing: a nice interlude to come in May, June. The people you read the integrity of the 23 chapters know what to expect. In alphabetic order and with obfuscation: Balder, Frigga,Jane Foster, Jord, Loki. Njord, Odin, Sif, Theoric, Thor,the Warriors Three.


End file.
